PS  3523 

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A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SNOWS 


CHAPTER  I 


"  ALL  ready,  Miss  Welse,  though  I'm  sorry  we  can't 
spare  one  of  the  steamer's  boats." 

Frona  Welse  arose  with  alacrity  and  came  to  the 
first  officer's  side. 

"  We're  so  busy,"  he  explained,  "  and  gold-rushers 
are  such  perishable  freight,  at  least " 

"  I  understand,"  she  interrupted,  "  and  I,  too,  am 
behaving  as  though  I  were  perishable.  And  I  am  sorry 

for  the  trouble  I  am  giving  you,  but — but "  She 

turned  quickly  and  pointed  to  the  shore.  "  Do  you  see 
that  big  log-house?  Between  the  clump  of  pines  and 
the  river?  I  was  born  there." 

"  Guess  I'd  be  in  a  hurry  myself,"  he  muttered, 
sympathetically,  as  he  piloted  her  along  the  crowded 
deck. 

Everybody  was  in  everybody  else's  way;  nor  was 
there  one  who  failed  to  proclaim  it  at  the  top  of  his 
lungs.  A  thousand  gold-seekers  were  clamoring  for 
the  immediate  landing  of  their  outfits.  Each  hatchway 
gaped  wide  open,  and  from  the  lower  depths  the  shriek 
ing  donkey-engines  were  hurrying  the  misassorted  out 
fits  skyward.  On  either  side  of  the  steamer,  rows  of 

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OF   THE   SNOWS 


scows  received  the  flying  cargo,  and  on  each  of  these 
scows  a  sweating  mob  of  men  charged  the  descending 
slings  and  heaved  bales  and  boxes  about  in  frantic 
search.  Men  waved  shipping  receipts  and  shouted  over 
the  steamer-rails  to  them.  Sometimes  two  and  three 
identified  the  same  article,  and  war  arose.  The  "  two- 
circle"  and  the  "  circle-and-dot"  brands  caused  endless 
jangling,  while  every  whipsaw  discovered  a  dozen 
claimants. 

"  The  purser  insists  that  he  is  going  mad,"  the  first 
officer  said,  as  he  helped  Frona  Welse  down  the  gang 
way  to  the  landing  stage,  "  and  the  freight  clerks  have 
turned  the  cargo  over  to  the  passengers  and  quit  work. 
But  we're  not  so  unlucky  as  the  Star  of  Bethlehem," 
he  reassured  her,  pointing  to  a  steamship  at  anchor 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  away.  "  Half  of  her  passengers 
have  pack-horses  for  Skaguay  and  White  Pass,  and 
the  other  half  are  bound  over  the  Chilcoot.  So  they've 
mutinied  and  everything's  at  a  standstill." 

"  Hey,  you  !"  he  cried,  beckoning  to  a  Whitehall 
which  hovered  discreetly  on  the  outer  rim  of  the  float 
ing  confusion. 

A  tiny  launch,  pulling  heroically  at  a  huge  tow- 
barge,  attempted  to  pass  between;  but  the  boatman 
shot  nervily  across  her  bow,  and  just  as  he  was  clear, 
unfortunately,  caught  a  crab.  This  slewed  the  boat 
around  and  brought  it  to  a  stop. 

"  Watch  out  !"  the  first  officer  shouted. 

A  pair  of  seventy-foot  canoes,  loaded  with  outfits, 
gold-rushers,  and  Indians,  and  under  full  sail,  drove 
down  from  the  counter  direction.  One  of  them  veered 
sharply  towards  the  landing  stage,  but  the  other 
pinched  the  Whitehall  against  the  barge.  The  boat- 

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A   DAUGHTER   OF  THE   SNOWS 

man  had  unshipped  his  oars  in  time,  but  his  small 
craft  groaned  under  the  pressure  and  threatened  to 
collapse.  Whereat  he  came  to  his  feet,  and  in  short, 
nervous  phrases  consigned  all  canoe-men  and  launch- 
captains  to  eternal  perdition.  A  man  on  the  barge 
leaned  over  from  above  and  baptized  him  with  crisp 
and  crackling  oaths,  while  the  whites  and  Indians  in 
the  canoe  laughed  derisively. 

"  Aw,  g'wan !"  one  of  them  shouted.  "  Why  don't 
yeh  learn  to  row  ?" 

The  boatman's  fist  landed  on  the  point  of  his  critic's 
jaw  and  dropped  him  stunned  upon  the  heaped  mer 
chandise.  Not  content  with  this  summary  act  he 
proceeded  to  follow  his  fist  into  the  other  craft.  The 
miner  nearest  him  tugged  vigorously  at  a  revolver 
which  had  jammed  in  its  shiny  leather  holster,  while 
his  brother  argonauts,  laughing,  waited  the  outcome. 
But  the  canoe  was  under  way  again,  and  the  Indian 
helmsman  drove  the  point  of  his  paddle  into  the  boat 
man's  chest  and  hurled  him  backward  into  the  bottom 
of  the  Whitehall. 

When  the  flood  of  oaths  and  blasphemy  was  at  full 
tide,  and  violent  assault  and  quick  death  seemed  most 
imminent,  the  first  officer  had  stolen  a  glance  at  the 
girl  by  his  side.  He  had  expected  to  find  a  shocked 
and  frightened  maiden  countenance,  and  was  not  at 
all  prepared  for  the  flushed  and  deeply  interested  face 
which  met  his  eyes. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  he  began. 

But  she  broke  in,  as  though  annoyed  by  the  inter 
ruption,  "  No,  no;  not  at  all.  I  am  enjoying  it  every 
bit.  Though  I  am  glad  that  man's  revolver  stuck.  If 

it  had  not " 

9 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

"  We  might  have  been  delayed  in  getting  ashore." 
The  first  officer  laughed,  and  therein  displayed  his  tact. 

"  That  man  is  a  robber,"  he  went  on,  indicating  the 
boatman,  who  had  now  shoved  his  oars  into  the  water 
and  was  pulling  alongside.  "  He  agreed  to  charge  only 
twenty  dollars  for  putting  you  ashore.  Said  he'd  have 
made  it  twenty-five  had  it  been  a  man.  He's  a  pirate, 
mark  me,  and  he  will  surely  hang  some  day.  Twenty 
dollars  for  a  half-hour's  work !  Think  of  it !" 

"  Easy,  sport !  Easy !"  cautioned  the  fellow  in  ques 
tion,  at  the  same  time  making  an  awkward  landing 
and  dropping  one  of  his  oars  over-side.  "  You've  no 
call  to  be  flingin'  names  about,"  he  added,  defiantly, 
wringing  out  his  shirt-sleeve,  wet  from  rescue  of  the 
oar. 

"  You've  got  good  ears,  my  man,"  began  the  first 
officer. 

"  And  a  quick  fist,"  the  other  snapped  in. 

"  And  a  ready  tongue." 

"  Need  it  in  my  business.  No  gettin'  'long  without 
it  among  you  sea-sharks.  Pirate,  am  I?  And  you 
with  a  thousand  passengers  packed  like  sardines ! 
Charge  'em  double  first-class  passage,  feed  Jem  steer 
age  grub,  and  bunk  'em  worse  'n  pigs!  Pirate,  eh! 
Me?" 

A  red-faced  man  thrust  his  head  over  the  rail  above 
and  began  to  bellow  lustily. 

"  I  want  my  stock  landed !  Come  up  here,  Mr. 
Thurston!  Now!  Right  away!  Fifty  cayuses  01 
mine  eating  their  heads  off  in  this  dirty  kennel  of 
yours,  and  it'll  be  a  sick  time  you'll  have  if  you  don't 
hustle  them  ashore  as  fast  as  God'll  let  you!  I'm 
losing  a  thousand  dollars  a  day,  and  I  won't  stand  it ' 


A   DAUGHTER   OF  THE   SNOWS 

Do  you  hear?  I  won't  stand  it!  You've  robbed  me 
right  and  left  from  the  time  you  cleared  dock  in 
Seattle,  and  by  the  hinges  of  hell  I  won't  stand  it  any 
more!  I'll  break  this  company  as  sure  as  my  name's 
Triad  Ferguson!  D'ye  hear  my  spiel?  I'm  Thad 
Ferguson,  and  you  can't  come  and  see  me  any  too 
quick  for  your  health!  D'ye  hear?" 

"Pirate,  eh?"  the  boatman  soliloquized.  "Who? 
Me?" 

Mr.  Thurston  waved  his  hand  appeasingly  at  the 
red- faced  man,  and  turned  to  the  girl.  "  I'd  like  to 
go  ashore  with  you,  and  as  far  as  the  store,  but  you 
see  how  busy  we  are.  Good-by,  and  a  lucky  trip  to 
you.  I'll  tell  off  a  couple  of  men  at  once  and  break  out 
your  baggage.  Have  it  up  at  the  store  to-morrow 
morning,  sharp." 

She  took  his  hand  lightly  and  stepped  aboard.  Her 
weight  gave  the  leaky  boat  a  sudden  lurch,  and  the 
water  hurtled  across  the  bottom  boards  to  her  shoe- 
tops  ;  but  she  took  it  coolly  enough,  settling  herself  in 
the  stern-sheets  and  tucking  her  feet  under  her. 

"  Hold  on !"  the  officer  cried.  "  This  will  never  do, 
Miss  Welse.  Come  on  back,  and  I'll  get  one  of  our 
boats  over  as  soon  as  I  can." 

"  I'll  see  you  in — in  heaven  first,"  retorted  the  boat 
man,  shoving  off.  "  Let  go !"  he  threatened. 

Mr.  Thurston  gripped  tight  hold  of  the  gunwale, 
and  as  reward  for  his  chivalry  had  his  knuckles  rapped 
sharply  by  the  oar-blade.  Then  he  forgot  himself, 
and  Miss  Welse  also,  and  swore,  and  swore  fervently. 

"  I  dare  say  our  farewell  might  have  been  more 
dignified,"  she  called  back  to  him,  her  laughter  rip 
pling  across  the  water. 

ii 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

"Jove!"  he  muttered,  doffing  his  cap  gallantly. 
"There  is  a  woman!"  And  a  sudden  hunger  seized 
him,  and  a  yearning  to  see  himself  mirrored  always 
in  the  gray  eyes  of  Frona  Welse.  He  was  not  ana 
lytical  ;  he  did  not  know  why ;  but  he  knew  that  with 
her  he  could  travel  to  the  end  of  the  earth.  He  felt 
a  distaste  for  his  profession,  and  a  temptation  to  throw 
it  all  over  and  strike  out  for  the  Klondike  whither  she 
was  going ;  then  he  glanced  up  the  beetling  side  of  the 
ship,  saw  the  red  face  of  Thad  Ferguson,  and  forgot 
the  dream  he  had  for  an  instant  dreamed. 

Splash !  A  handful  of  water  from  his  strenuous  oar 
struck  her  full  in  the  face.  "  Hope  you  don't  mind  it, 
miss,"  he  apologized.  "  I'm  doin'  the  best  I  know 
how,  which  ain't  much." 

"  So  it  seems,"  she  answered,  good-naturedly. 

"  Not  that  I  love  the  sea,"  bitterly;  "  but  I've  got  to 
turn  a  few  honest  dollars  somehow,  and  this  seemed 
the  likeliest  way.  I  oughter  Ja  ben  in  Klondike  by 
now,  if  I'd  had  any  luck  at  all.  Tell  you  how  it  was. 
I  lost  my  outfit  on  Windy  Arm,  half-way  in,  after 
packin'  it  clean  across  the  Pass " 

Zip !  Splash !  She  shook  the  water  from  her  eyes, 
squirming  the'  while  as  some  of  it  ran  down  her  warm 
back. 

"  You'll  do,"  he  encouraged  her.  "  You're  the  right 
stuff  for  this  country.  Coin'  all  the  way  in?" 

She  nodded  cheerfully. 

"  Then  you'll  do.  But  as  I  was  sayin',  after  I  lost 
my  outfit  I  hit  back  for  the  coast,  bein'  broke,  to  hustle 
up  another  one.  That's  why  I'm  chargin'  high-press 
ure  rates.  And  I  hope  you  don't  feel  sore  at  what  I 

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A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

me  '.e  you  pay.  I'm  no  worse  than  the  rest,  miss,  sure. 
II  iid  to  dig  up  a  hundred  for  this  old  tub,  which  ain't 
we  'h  ten  down  in  the  States.  Same  kind  of  prices 
ev  fywhere.  Over  on  the  Skaguay  Trail  horseshoe 
nai  '.  is  just  as  good  as  a  quarter  any  day.  A  man  goes 
up  to  the  bar  and  calls  for  a  whiskey.  Whiskey's  half 
a  dollar.  Well,  he  drinks  his  whiskey,  plunks  down 
two  horseshoe  nails,  and  it's  O.K.  No  kick  comin'  on 
horseshoe  nails.  They  use  Jem  to  make  change." 

"  You  must  be  a  brave  man  to  venture  into  the  coun 
try  again  after  such  an  experience.  Won't  you  tell  me 
your  name  ?  We  may  meet  on  the  Inside." 

"Who?  Me?  Oh,  I'm  Del  Bishop,  pocket-miner; 
and  if  ever  we  run  across  each  other,  remember  I'd 
give  you  the  last  shirt — I  mean,  remember  my  last  bit 
of  grub  is  yours." 

"Thank  you,"  she  answered  with  a  sweet  smile; 
for  she  was  a  woman  who  loved  the  things  which  rose 
straight  from  the  heart. 

He  stopped  rowing  long  enough  to  fish  about  in  the 
water  around  his  feet  for  an  old  cornbeef  can. 

"  You'd  better  do  some  bailin',"  he  ordered,  tossing 
her  the  can.  "  She's  leakin'  worse  since  that  squeeze." 

Frona  smiled  mentally,  tucked  up  her  skirts,  and 
bent  to  the  work.  At  every  dip,  like  great  billows 
heaving  along  the  sky-line,  the  glacier-fretted  moun 
tains  rose  and  fell.  Sometimes  she  rested  her  back 
and  watched  the  teeming  beach  towards  which  they 
were  heading,  and  again,  the  land-locked  arm  of  the 
sea  in  which  a  score  or  so  of  great  steamships  lay  at 
anchor.  From  each  of  these,  to  the  shore  and  back 
again,  flowed  a  steady  stream  of  scows,  launches, 
canoes,  and  all  sorts  of  smaller  craft.  Man,  the  mighty 

13 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 


toiler,  reacting  upon  a  hostile  environment,  she  tho  |.ght, 
going  back  in  memory  to  the  masters  whose  wi  iom 
she  had  shared  in  lecture-room  and  midnight  <  idy. 
She  was  a  ripened  child  of  the  age,  and  fairly  t  ler- 
stood  the  physical  world  and  the  workings  thereof. 
And  she  had  a  love  for  the  world,  and  a  deep  respect. 

For  some  time  Del  Bishop  had  only  punctuated  the 
silence  with  splashes  from  his  oars;  but  a  thought 
struck  him. 

"You  haven't  told  me  your  name,"  he  suggested, 
with  complacent  delicacy. 

"  My  name  is  Welse,"  she  answered.  "  Frona 
Welse." 

A  great  awe  manifested  itself  in  his  face,  and  grew 
to  a  greater  and  greater  awe.  "  You — are — Frona — 
Welse?"  he  enunciated  slowly.  "Jacob  Welse  ain't 
your  old  man,  is  he?" 

"  Yes ;  I  am  Jacob  Welse's  daughter,  at  your  ser 
vice." 

He  puckered  his  lips  in  a  long  low  whistle  of  under 
standing  and  stopped  rowing.  "  Just  you  climb  back 
into  the  stern  and  take  your  feet  out  of  that  water/' 
he  commanded.  "  And  gimme  holt  that  can." 

"  Am  I  not  bailing  satisfactorily  ?"  she  demanded, 
indignantly. 

"  Yep.  You're  doin'  all  right ;  but,  but,  you  are — 
are " 

"  Just  what  I  was  before  you  knew  who  I  was.  Now 
you  go  on  rowing, — that's  your  share  of  the  work; 
and  I'll  take  care  of  mine." 

"  Oh,  you'll  do !"  he  murmured  ecstatically,  bending 
afresh  to  the  oars.  "And  Jacob  Welse  is  your  old 
man  ?  I  oughter  'a  known  it,  sure !" 

14 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

When  they  reached  the  sand-spit,  crowded  with 
heterogeneous  piles  of  merchandise  and  buzzing  with 
men,  she  stopped  long  enough  to  shake  hands  with 
her  ferryman.  And  though  such  a  proceeding  on  the 
part  of  his  feminine  patrons  was  certainly  unusual, 
Del  Bishop  squared  it  easily  with  the  fact  that  she  was 
Jacob  Welse's  daughter. 

"  Remember,  my  last  bit  of  grub  is  yours,"  he  re 
assured  her,  still  holding  her  hand. 

"  And  your  last  shirt,  too ;  don't  forget." 

"  Well,  you're  a — a — a  crackerjack !"  he  exploded 
with  a  final  squeeze.  "  Sure !" 

Her  short  skirt  did  not  block  the  free  movement  of 
her  limbs,  and  she  discovered  with  pleasurable  sur 
prise  that  the  quick  tripping  step  of  the  city  pavement 
had  departed  from  her,  and  that  she  was  swinging 
off  in  the  long  easy  stride  which  is  born  of  the  trail 
and  which  comes  only  after  much  travail  and  endeavor. 
More  than  one  gold-rusher,  shooting  keen  glances 
at  her  ankles  and  gray-gaitered  calves,  affirmed  Del 
Bishop's  judgment.  And  more  than  one  glanced  up 
at  her  face,  and  glanced  again ;  for  her  gaze  was  frank, 
with  the  frankness  of  comradeship;  and  in  her  eyes 
there  was  always  a  smiling  light,  just  trembling  on  the 
verge  of  dawn;  and  did  the  onlooker  smile,  her  eyes 
smiled  also.  And  the  smiling  light  was  protean- 
mooded, — merry,  sympathetic,  joyous,  quizzical, — the 
complement  of  whatsoever  kindled  it.  And  some 
times  the  light  spread  over  all  her  face,  till  the  smile 
prefigured  by  it  was  realized.  But  it  was  always  in 
frank  and  open  comradeship. 

And  there  was  much  to  cause  her  to  smile  as  she 
hurried  through  the  crowd,  across  the  sand-spit,  and 

15 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

over  the  flat  towards  the  log-building  she  had  pointed 
out  to  Mr.  Thurston.  Time  had  rolled  back,  and  loco 
motion  and  transportation  were  once  again  in  the  most 
primitive  stages.  Men  who  had  never  carried  more 
than  parcels  in  all  their  lives  had  now  become  bearers 
of  burdens.  They  no  longer  walked  upright  under  the 
sun,  but  stooped  the  body  forward  and  bowed  the 
head  to  the  earth.  Every  back  had  become  a  pack- 
saddle,  and  the  strap-galls  were  beginning  to  form. 
They  staggered  beneath  the  unwonted  effort,  and  legs 
became  drunken  with  weariness  and  titubated  in 
divers  directions  till  the  sunlight  darkened  and  bearer 
and  burden  fell  by  the  way.  Other  men,  exulting 
secretly,  piled  their  goods  on  two-wheeled  go-carts 
and  pulled  out  blithely  enough,  only  to  stall  at  the 
first  spot  where  the  great  round  boulders  invaded  the 
trail.  Whereat  they  generalized  anew  upon  the  prin 
ciples  of  Alaskan  travel,  discarded  the  go-cart,  or 
trundled  it  back  to  the  beach  and  sold  it  at  fabulous 
price  to  the  last  man  landed.  Tenderfeet,  with  ten 
pounds  of  Colt's  revolvers,  cartridges,  and  hunting- 
knives  belted  about  them,  wandered  valiantly  up  the 
trail,  and  crept  back  softly,  shedding  revolvers,  car 
tridges,  and  knives  in  despairing  showers.  And  so,  in 
gasping  and  bitter  sweat,  these  sons  of  Adam  suffered 
for  Adam's  sin. 

Frona  felt  vaguely  disturbed  by  this  great  throbbing 
rush  of  gold-mad  men,  and  the  old  scene  with  its  clus 
tering  associations  seemed  blotted  out  by  these  toiling 
aliens.  Even  the  old  landmarks  appeared  strangely  un 
familiar.  It  was  the  same,  yet  not  the  same.  Here, 
on  the  grassy  flat,  where  she  had  played  as  a  child  and 
shrunk  back  at  the  sound  of  her  voice  echoing  from 

16 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS. 

glacier  to  glacier,  ten  thousand  men  tramped  cease 
lessly  up  and  down,  grinding  the  tender  herbage  into 
the  soil  and  mocking  the  stony  silence.  And  just  up 
the  trail  were  ten  thousand  men  who  had  passed  by, 
and  over  the  Chilcoot  were  ten  thousand  more.  And 
behind,  all  down  the  island-studded  Alaskan  coast, 
even  to  the  Horn,  were  yet  ten  thousand  more,  har- 
nessers  of  wind  and  steam,  hasteners  from  the  ends 
of  the  earth.  The  Dyea  River  as  of  old  roared  turbu- 
lently  down  to  the  sea;  but  its  ancient  banks  were 
gored  by  the  feet  of  many  men,  and  these  men  labored 
in  surging  rows  at  the  dripping  tow-lines,  and  the 
deep-laden  boats  followed  them  as  they  fought  their 
upward  way.  And  the  will  of  man  strove  with  the 
will  of  the  water,  and  the  men  laughed  at  the  old  Dyea 
River  and  gored  its  banks  deeper  for  the  men  who  were 
to  follow. 

The  doorway  of  the  store,  through  which  she  had 
once  run  out  and  in,  and  where  she  had  looked  with 
awe  at  the  unusual  sight  of  a  stray  trapper  or  fur- 
trader,  was  now  packed  with  a  clamorous  throng  of 
men.  Where  of  old  one  letter  waiting  a  claimant  was  a 
thing  of  wonder,  she  now  saw,  by  peering  through  the 
window,  the  mail  heaped  up  from  floor  to  ceiling. 
And  it  was  for  this  mail  the  men  were  clamoring  so 
insistently.  Before  the  store,  by  the  scales,  was  an 
other  crowd.  An  Indian  threw  his  pack  upon  the 
scales,  the  white  .owner  jotted  down  the  weight  in 
a  note-book,  and  another  pack  was  thrown  on.  Each 
pack  was  in  the  straps,  ready  for  the  packer's  back 
and  the  precarious  journey  over  the  Chilcoot.  Frona 
edged  in  closer.  She  was  interested  in  freights.  She 
remembered  in  her  day  when  the  solitary  prospector 
2  17 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

or  trader  had  his  outfit  packed  over  for  six  cents, — 
one  hundred  and  twenty  dollars  a  ton. 

The  tenderfoot  who  was  weighing  up  consulted  his 
guide-book.  *  Eight  cents,"  he  said  to  the  Indian. 
Whereupon  the  Indians  laughed  scornfully  and 
chorused,  "  Forty  cents !"  A  pained  expression 
came  into  his  face,  and  he  looked  about  him  anx 
iously.  The  sympathetic  light  in  Frona's  eyes  caught 
him,  and  he  regarded  her  with  intent  blankness.  In 
reality  he  was  busy  reducing  a  three-ton  outfit  to  terms 
of  cash  at  forty  dollars  per  hundred-weight.  "  Twenty- 
four  hundred  dollars  for  thirty  miles!"  he  cried. 
"What  can  I  do?" 

Frona  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  You'd  better  pay 
them  the  forty  cents,"  she  advised,  "  else  they  will 
take  off  their  straps." 

The  man  thanked  her,  but  instead  of  taking  heed 
went  on  with  his  haggling.  One  of  the  Indians 
stepped  up  and  proceeded  to  unfasten  his  pack-straps. 
The  tenderfoot  wavered,  but  just  as  he  was  about  to 
give  in,  the  packers  jumped  the  price  on  him  to  forty- 
five  cents.  He  smiled  after  a  sickly  fashion,  and 
nodded  his  head  in  token  of  surrender.  But  another 
Indian  joined  the  group  and  began  whispering  ex 
citedly.  A  cheer  went  up,  and  before  the  man  could 
realize  it  they  had  jerked  off  their  straps  and  departed, 
spreading  the  news  as  they  went  that  freight  to  Lake 
Linderman  was  fifty  cents. 

Of  a  sudden,  the  crowd  before  the  store  was  per 
ceptibly  agitated.  Its  members  whispered  excitedly 
one  to  another,  and  all  their  eyes  were  focussed  upon 
three  men  approaching  from  up  the  trail.  The  trio 
were  ordinary-looking  creatures,  ill-clad  and  even 

18 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE   SNOWS 

ragged.  In  a  more  stable  community  their  apprehen 
sion  by  the  village  constable  and  arrest  for  vagrancy 
would  have  been  immediate.  "  French  Louis,"  the 
tenderfeet  whispered  and  passed  the  word  along. 
"  Owns  three  Eldorado  claims  in  a  block,"  the  man 
next  to  Frona  confided  to  her.  "  Worth  ten  millions 
at  the  very  least."  French  Louis,  striding  a  little  in 
advance  of  his  companions,  did  not  look  it.  He  had 
parted  company  with  his  hat  somewhere  along  the 
route,  and  a  frayed  silk  kerchief  was  wrapped  care 
lessly  about  his  head.  And  for  all  his  ten  millions,  he 
carried  his  own  travelling  pack  on  his  broad  shoulders. 
"And  that  one,  the  one  with  the  beard,  that's  Swift- 
water  Bill,  another  of  the  Eldorado  kings." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?"  Frona  asked,  doubtingly. 

"  Know !"  the  man  exclaimed.  "  Know !  Why  his 
picture  has  been  in  all  the  papers  for  the  last  six  weeks. 
See !"  He  unfolded  a  newspaper.  "  And  a  pretty  good 
likeness,  too.  I've  looked  at  it  so  much  I'd  know  his 
mug  among  a  thousand." 

"  Then  who  is  the  third  one  ?"  she  queried,  tacitly 
accepting  him  as  a  fount  of  authority. 

Her  informant  lifted  himself  on  his  toes  to  see  bet 
ter.  "  I  don't  know,"  he  confessed  sorrowfully,  then 
tapped  the  shoulder  of  the  man  next  to  him.  "  Who 
is  the  lean,  smooth-faced  one?  The  one  with  the  blue 
shirt  and  the  patch  on  his  knee  ?" 

Just  then  Frona  uttered  a  glad  little  cry  and  darted 
forward.  "  Matt !"  she  cried.  "  Matt  McCarthy !" 

The  man  with  the  patch  shook  her  hand  heartily, 
though  he  did  not  know  her  and  distrust  was  plain  in 
his  eyes. 

"  Oh,  you  don't  remember  me !"  she  chattered. 
19 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

"  And  don't  you  dare  say  you  do !  If  there  weren't 
so  many  looking,  I'd  hug  you,  you  old  bear ! 

"  And  so  Big  Bear  went  home  to  the  Little  Bears," 
she  recited,  solemnly.  "  And  the  Little  Bears  were 
very  hungry.  And  Big  Bear  said,  '  Guess  what  I  have 
got,  my  children.'  And  one  Little  Bear  guessed  berries, 
and  one  Little  Bear  guessed  salmon,  and  t'other  Little 
Bear  guessed  porcupine.  Then  Big  Bear  laughed 
€  Whoof !  Whoof !'  and  said, '  A  Nice  Big  Fat  Man!' " 

As  he  listened,  recollection  avowed  itself  in  his  face, 
and,  when  she  had  finished,  his  eyes  wrinkled  up  and 
he  laughed  a  peculiar,  laughable  silent  laugh. 

"  Sure,  an'  it's  well  I  know  ye,"  he  explained ;  "  but 
for  the  life  iv  me  I  can't  put  me  finger  4&  ye." 

She  pointed  into  the  store  and  watched  him  anx 
iously. 

"  Now  I  have  ye !"  He  drew  back  and  looked  her 
up  and  down,  and  his  expression  changed  to  disap 
pointment.  "  It  cuddent  be.  I  mistook  ye.  Ye  cud 
niver  a-lived  in  that  shanty,"  thrusting  a  thumb  in  the 
direction  of  the  store. 

Frona  nodded  her  head  vigorously. 

"Thin  it's  yer  ownself  afther  all?  The  little 
motherless  darlin',  with  the  goold  hair  I  combed  the 
knots  out  iv  many's  the  time?  The  little  witch  that 
run  barefoot  an'  barelegged  over  all  the  place?" 

"  Yes,  yes,"  she  corroborated,  gleefully. 

"The  little  divil  that  stole  the  dog-team  an'  wint 
over  the  Pass  in  the  dead  o'  winter  for  to  see  where 
the  world  come  to  an  ind  on  the  ither  side,  just  be 
cause  old  Matt  McCarthy  was  afther  tellin'  her  fairy 
stories?" 

"  O  Matt,  dear  old  Matt !  Remember  the  time  I 
20 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

went  swimming  with  the  Si  wash  girls  from  the  Indian 
camp  ?" 

"  An'  I  dragged  ye  out  by  the  hair  o'  yer  head  ?" 

"  And  lost  one  of  your  new  rubber  boots  ?" 

"  Ah,  an'  sure  an'  I  do.  And  a  most  shockin'  an* 
immodest  affair  it  was !  An'  the  boots  was  worth  tin 
dollars  over  yer  father's  counter." 

"  And  then  you  went  away,  over  the  Pass,  to  the  In 
side,  and  we  never  heard  a  word  of  you.  Everybody 
thought  you  dead." 

"  Well  I  recollect  the  day.  An'  ye  cried  in  me  arms 
an'  wuddent  kiss  yer  old  Matt  good-by.  But  ye  did 
in  the  ind,"  he  exclaimed,  triumphantly,  "  whin  ye  saw 
I  was  goin'  to  lave  ye  for  sure.  What  a  wee  thing  ye 
were!" 

"  I  was  only  eight." 

"  An'  'tis  twelve  year  agone.  Twelve  year  I've  spint 
on  the  Inside,  with  niver  a  trip  out.  Ye  must  be  twinty 
now?" 

"  And  almost  as  big  as  you,"  Frona  affirmed. 

"  A  likely  woman  ye've  grown  into,  tall,  an'  shapely, 
an'  all  that."  He  looked  her  over  critically.  "  But  ye 
cud  'a'  stood  a  bit  more  flesh,  I'm  thinkin'." 

"  No,  no,"  she  denied.  "  Not  at  twenty,  Matt,  not 
at  twenty.  Feel  my  arm,  you'll  see."  She  doubled 
that  member  till  the  biceps  knotted. 

1  'Tis  muscle,"  he  admitted,  passing  his  hand  ad 
miringly  over  the  swelling  bunch ;  "  just  as  though 
ye'd  been  workin'  hard  for  yer  livin'." 

"  Oh,  I  can  swing  clubs,  and  box,  and  fence,"  she 
cried,  successively  striking  the  typical  postures ;  "  and 
swim,  and  make  higli  dives,  chin  a  bar  twenty  times, 
and — and  walk  on  my  hands.  There*!" 

2-1 


A   DAUGHTER   OF  THE   SNOWS 

"  Is  that  what  ye've  been  doin'  ?  I  thought  ye  wint 
away  for  book-larnin',"  he  commented,  dryly. 

"  But  they  have  new  ways  of  teaching,  now, 
Matt,  and  they  don't  turn  you  out  with  your  head 
crammed " 

"  An'  yer  legs  that  spindly  they  can't  carry  it  all ! 
Well,  an'  I  forgive  ye  yer  muscle." 

"But  how  about  yourself,  Matt?"  Frona  asked. 
"  How  has  the  world  been  to  you  these  twelve 
years  ?" 

"  Behold !"  He  spread  his  legs  apart,  threw  his  head 
back,  and  his  chest  out.  "  Ye  now  behold  Mister 
Matthew  McCarthy,  a  king  iv  the  noble  Eldorado 
Dynasty  by  the  strength  iv  his  own  right  arm.  Me 
possessions  is  limitless.  I  have  more  dust  in  wan 
minute  than  iver  I  saw  in  all  me  life  before.  Me  in- 
tintion  for  makin'  this  trip  to  the  States  is  to  look  up 
me  ancestors.  I  have  a  firm  belafe  that  they  wance 
existed.  Ye  may  find  nuggets  in  the  Klondike,  but 
niver  good  whiskey.  'Tis  likewise  me  intintion  to 
have  wan  drink  iv  the  rale  stuff  before  I  die.  Afther 
that  'tis  me  sworn  resolve  to  return  to  the  super- 
veeshion  iv  me  Klondike  properties.  Indade,  and  I'm 
an  Eldorado  king;  an'  if  ye'll  be  wantin'  the  lind  iv 
a  tidy  bit,  it's  meself  that'll  loan  it  ye." 

"  The  same  old,  old  Matt,  who  never  grows  old," 
Frona  laughed. 

"An'  it's  yerself  is  the  thrue  Welse,  for  all  yer 
prize-fighter's  muscles  an'  yer  philosopher's  brains. 
But  let's  wander  inside  on  the  heels  of  Louis  an'  Swift- 
water.  Andy's  still  tindin'  store,  I'm  told,  an'  we'll  see 
if  I  still  linger  in  the  pages  iv  his  mimory." 

"  And  I,  also."  Frona  seized  him  by  the  hand.  It 
22 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

was  a  bad  habit  she  had  of  seizing  the  hands  of  those 
she  loved.  "  It's  ten  years  since  I  went  away." 

The  Irishman  forged  his  way  through  the  crowd  like 
a  pile-driver,  and  Frona  followed  easily  in  the  lee  of  his 
bulk.  The  tenderfeet  watched  them  reverently,  for 
to  them  they  were  as  Northland  divinities.  The  buzz 
of  conversation  rose  again. 

"  Who's  the  girl  ?"  somebody  asked.  And  just  as 
Frona  passed  inside  the  door  she  caught  the  opening 
of  the  answer:  "Jacob  Welse's  daughter.  Never 
heard  of  Jacob  Welse?  Where  have  you  been  keep 
ing  yourself  ?" 


CHAPTER  II 


SHE  came  out  of  the  wood  of  glistening  birch,  and 
with  the  first  fires  of  the  sun  blazoning  her  unbound 
hair  raced  lightly  across  the  dew-dripping  meadow. 
The  earth  was  fat  with  excessive  moisture  and  soft 
to  her  feet,  while  the  dank  vegetation  slapped  against 
her  knees  and  cast  off  flashing  sprays  of  liquid  dia 
monds.  The  flush  of  the  morning  was  in  her  cheek, 
and  its  fire  in  her  eyes,  and  she  was  aglow  with  youth 
and  love.  For  she  had  nursed  at  the  breast  of  nature, 
— in  forfeit  of  a  mother, — and  she  loved  the  old  trees 
and  the  creeping  green  things  with  a  passionate  love ; 
and  the  dim  murmur  of  growing  life  was  a  gladness  to  * 
her  ears,  and  the  damp  earth-smells  were  sweet  to  her 
nostrils. 

Where  the  upper-reach  of  the  meadow  vanished  in 
a  dark  and  narrow  forest  aisle,  amid  clean-stemmed 
dandelions  and  color-bursting  buttercups,  she  came 
upon  a  bunch  of  great  Alaskan  violets.  Throwing 
herself  at  full  length,  she  buried  her  face  in  the  fra 
grant  coolness,  and  with  her  hands  drew  the  purple 
heads  in  circling  splendor  about  her  own.  And  she 
was  not  ashamed.  She  had  wandered  away  amid  the 
complexities  and  smirch  and  withering  heats  of  the 
grea  *  '"^ed.  simple,  and  clean, 

and 
there; 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

began  and  ended  at  the  sky-line,  and  when  she  jour 
neyed  over  the  Pass  to  behold  the  Abyss. 

It  was  a  primitive  life,  that  of  her  childhood,  with 
few  conventions,  but  such  as  there  were,  stern  ones. 
And  they  might  be  epitomized,  as  she  had  read  some 
where  in  her  later  years,  as  "  the  faith  of  food  and 
blanket."  This  faith  had  her  father  kept,  she  thought, 
remembering  that  his  name  sounded  well  on  the  lips  of 
men.  And  this  was  the  faith  she  had  learned, — the 
faith  she  had  carried  with  her  across  the  Abyss  and 
into'  the  world,  where  men  had  wandered  away  from 
the  old  truths  and  made  themselves  selfish  dogmas 
and  casuistries  of  the  subtlest  kinds ;  the  faith  she  had 
brought  back  with  her,  still  fresh,  and  young,  and  joy 
ous.  And  it  was  all  so  simple,  she  had  contended; 
why  should  not  their  faith  be  as  her  faith — the  faith 
of  food  and  blanket?  The  faith  of  trail  and  hunting 
camp?  The  faith  with  which  strong  clean  men  faced 
the  quick  danger  and  sudden  death  by  field  and  flood? 
Why  not?  The  faith  of  Jacob  Welse?  Of  Matt  Mc 
Carthy?  Of  the  Indian  boys  she  had  played  with? 
Of  the  Indian  girls  she  had  led  to  Amazonian  war? 
Of  the  very  wolf-dogs  straining  in  the  harnesses  and 
running  with  her  across  the  snow?  It  was  healthy;  it 
was  real*  it  was  good,  she  thought,  and  she  was  glad. 

The  rich  notes  of  a  robin  saluted  her  from  the  birch 
wood,  and  opened  her  ears  to  the  day.  A  partridge 
boomed  afar  in  the  forest,  and  a  tree-squirrel  launched 
unerringly  into  space  above  her  head,  and  went  on, 
from  limb  to  limb  and  tree  to  tree,  scolding  graciously 
the  while.  From  the  hidden  river  rose  the  shouts  of 
the  toiling  adventurers,  already  parted  from  sleep  and 
fighting  their  way  towards  the  Pole. 

25 


A   DAUGHTER   OF  THE   SNOWS 

Frona  arose,  shook  back  her  hair,  and  took  instinc 
tively  the  old  path  between  the  trees  to  the  camp  of 
Chief  George  and  the  Dyea  tribesmen.  She  came  upon 
a  boy,  breech-clouted  and  bare,  like  a  copper  god.  He 
was  gathering  wood,  and  looked  at  her  keenly  over 
his  bronze  shoulder.  She  bade  him  good-morning, 
blithely,  in  the  Dyea  tongue;  but  he  shook  his  head, 
and  laughed  insultingly,  and  paused  in  his  work  to 
hurl  shameful  words  after  her.  She  did  not  under 
stand,  for  this  was  not  the  old  way,  and  when  she 
passed  a  great  and  glowering  Sitkan  buck  she  kept 
her  tongue  between  her  teeth.  At  the  fringe  of  the 
forest,  the  camp  confronted  her.  And  she  was 
startled.  It  was  not  the  old  camp  of  a  score  or  more 
of  lodges  clustering  and  huddling  together  in  the 
open  as  though  for  company,  but  a  mighty  camp.  It 
began  at  the  very  forest,  and  flowed  in  and  out  among 
the  scattered  tree-clumps  on  the  flat,  and  spilled  over 
and  down  to  the  river  bank  where  the  long  canoes 
were  lined  up  ten  and  twelve  deep.  It  was  a  gather 
ing  of  the  tribes,  like  unto  none  in  all  the  past,  and 
a  thousand  miles  of  coast  made  up  the  tally.  They 
were  all  strange  Indians,  with  wives  and  chattels  and 
dogs.  She  rubbed  shoulders  with  Juneau  and  Wran- 
gel  men,  and  was  jostled  by  wild-eyed  Sticks  from 
over  the  Passes,  fierce  Chilcats,  and  Queen  Charlotte 
Islanders.  And  the  looks  they  cast  upon  her  were 
black  and  frowning,  save — and  far  worse — where  the 
merrier  souls  leered  patronizingly  into  her  face  and 
chuckled  unmentionable  things. 

She  was  not  frightened  by  this  insolence,  but  an 
gered  ;  for  it  hurt  her,  and  embittered  the  pleasurable 
home-coming.  Yet  she  quickly  grasped  the  signifi- 

26 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

cance  of  it:  the  old  patriarchal  status  of  her  father's 
time  had  passed  away,  and  civilization,  in  a  scorching 
blast,  had  swept  down  upon  this  people  in  a  day. 
Glancing  under  the  raised  flaps  of  a  tent,  she  saw 
haggard-faced  bucks  squatting  in  a  circle  on  the  floor. 
By  the  door  a  heap  of  broken  bottles  advertised  the 
vigils  of  the  night.  A  white  man,  low  of  visage  and 
shrewd,  was  dealing  cards  about,  and  gold  and  silver 
coins  leaped  into  heaping  bets  upon  the  blanket  board. 
A  few  steps  farther  on  she  heard  the  cluttering  whirl 
of  a  wheel  of  fortune,  and  saw  the  Indians,  men  and 
women,  chancing  eagerly  their  sweat-earned  wages  for 
the  gaudy  prizes  of  the  game.  And  from  tepee  and 
lodge  rose  the  cracked  and  crazy  strains  of  cheap 
music-boxes. 

An  old  squaw,  peeling  a  willow  pole  in  the  sunshine 
of  an  open  doorway,  raised  her  head  and  uttered  a 
shrill  cry. 

"  Hee-Hee !  Tenas  Hee-Hee !"  she  muttered  as  well 
and  as  excitedly  as  her  toothless  gums  would  permit. 

Frona  thrilled  at  the  cry.  Tenas  Hee-Hee!  Little 
Laughter!  Her  name  of  the  long  gone  Indian  past! 
She  turned  and  went  over  to  the  old  woman. 

"  And  hast  thou  so  soon  forgotten,  Tenas  Hee-Hee  ?" 
she  mumbled.  "  And  thine  eyes  so  young  and  sharp ! 
Not  so  soon  does  Neepoosa  forget." 

"  It  is  thou,  Neepoosa  ?"  Frona  cried,  her  tongue 
halting  from  the  disuse  of  years. 

"  Ay,  it  is  Neepoosa,"  the  old  woman  replied,  draw 
ing  her  inside  the  tent,  and  despatching  a  bo'y,  hot 
footed,  on  some  errand.  They  sat  down  together  on 
the  floor,  and  she  patted  Frona's  hand  lovingly,  peer 
ing,  meanwhile,  blear-eyed  and  misty,  into  her  face. 

27 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

"  Ay,  it  is  Neepoosa,  grown  old  quickly  after  the  man 
ner  of  our  women.  Neepoosa,  who  dandled  thee  in 
her  arms  when  thou  wast  a  child.  Neepoosa,  who  gave 
thee  thy  name,  Tenas  Hee-Hee.  Who  fought  for  thee 
with  Death  when  thou  wast  ailing ;  and  gathered  grow 
ing  things  from  the  woods  and  grasses  of  the  earth 
and  made  of  them  tea,  and  gave  thee  to  drink.  But 
I  mark  little  change,  for  I  knew  thee  at  once.  It  was 
thy  very  shadow  on  the  ground  that  made  me  lift  my 
head.  A  little  change,  mayhap.  Tall  thou  art,  and 
like  a  slender  willow  in  thy  grace,  and  the  sun  has 
kissed  thy  cheeks  more  ligtftly  of  trie  years ;  but  there 
is  the  old  hair,  flying  wild  and  of  the  color  of  the 
brown  seaweed  floating  on  the  tide,  and  the  mouth, 
quick  to  laugh  and  loth  to  cry.  And  the  eyes  are  as 
clear  and  true  as  in  the  days  when  Neepoosa  chid  thee 
for  wrong-doing,  and  thou  wouldst  not  put  false  words 
upon  thy  tongue.  Ai !  Ai !  Not  as  thou  art  the  other 
women  who  come  now  into  the  land !" 

"  And  why  is  a  white  woman  without  honor  among 
you  ?"  Frona  demanded.  "  Your  men  say  evil  things 
to  me  in  the  camp,  and  as  I  came  through  the  woods, 
even  the  boys.  Not  in  the  old  days,  when  I  played 
with  them,  was  this  shame  so." 

"  Ai !  Ai !"  Neepoosa  made  answer.  "  It  is  so.  But 
do  not  blame  them.  Pour  not  thine  anger  upon  their 
heads.  For  it  is  true  it  is  the  fault  of  thy  women 
who  come  into  the  land  these  days.  They  can  point 
to  no  man  and  say,  '  That  is  my  man.'  And  it  is  not 
good  that  women  should  be  thus.  And  they  look  upon 
all  men,  bold-eyed  and  shameless,  and  their  tongues 
are  unclean,  and  their  hearts  bad.  Wherefore  are  thy 
women  without  honor  among  us.  As  for  the  boys, 

28 


A   DAUGHTER   OF  THE   SNOWS 

they  are  but  boys.  And  the  men;  how  should  they 
know?" 

The  tent-flaps  were  poked  aside  and  an  old  man 
came  in.  He  grunted  to  Frona  and  sat  down.  Only 
a  certain  eager  alertness  showed  the  delight  he  took 
in  her  presence. 

"  So  Tenas  Hee-Hee  has  come  back  in  these  bad 
days,"  he  vouchsafed  in  a  shrill,  quavering  voice. 

"  And  why  bad  days,  Muskim  ?"  Frona  asked.  "  Do 
not  the  women  wear  brighter  colors?  Are  not  the 
bellies  fuller  with  flour  and  bacon  and  white  man's 
grub?  Do  not  the  young  men  contrive  great  wealth 
what  of  their  pack-straps  and  paddles  ?  And  art  thou 
not  remembered  with  the  ancient  offerings  of  meat 
and  fish  and  blanket?  Why  bad  days,  Muskim?" 

"  True,"  he  replied  in  his  fine,  priestly  way,  a  remi 
niscent  flash  of  the  old  fire  lighting  his  eyes.  "  It  is 
very  true.  The  women  wear  brighter  colors.  But 
they  have  found  favor  in  the  eyes  of  thy  white  men, 
and  they  look  no  more  upon  the  young  men  of  their 
own  blood.  Wherefore  the  tribe  does  not  increase, 
nor  do  the  little  children  longer  clutter  the  way  of  our 
feet.  It  is  so.  The  bellies  are  fuller  with  the  white 
man's  grub;  but  also  are  they  fuller  with  the  white 
man's  bad  whiskey.  Nor  could  it  be  otherwise  that 
the  young  men  contrive  great  wealth ;  but  they  sit  by 
night  over  the  cards,  and  it  passes  from  them,  and 
they  speak  harsh  words  one  to  another,  and  in  anger 
blows  are  struck,  and  there  is  bad  blood  between  them. 
As  for  old  Muskim,  there  are  few  offerings  of  meat 
and  fish  and  blanket.  For  the  young  women  have 
turned  aside  from  the  old  paths,  nor  do  the  young  men 
longer  honor  the  old  totems  and  the  old  gods.  So  these 

29 


A   DAUGHTER   OF  THE   SNOWS 


are  bad  days,  Tenas  Hee-Hee,  and  they  behold  old 
Muskim  go  down  in  sorrow  to  the  grave." 

"  Ai !    Ai !    It  is  so !"  wailed  Neepoosa. 

"  Because  of  the  madness  of  thy  people  have  my 
people  become  mad,"  Muskim  continued.  "  They  come 
over  the  salt  sea  like  the  waves  of  the  sea,  thy  people, 
and  they  go — ah !  who  knoweth  where  ?" 

"Ai!  Who  knoweth  where?"  Neepoosa  lamented, 
rocking  slowly  back  and  forth. 

"  Ever  they  go  towards  the  frost  and  cold ;  and 
ever  do  they  come,  more  people,  wave  upon  wave !" 

"Ai!  Ai!  Into  the  frost  and  cold!  It  is  a  long 
way,  and  dark  and  cold!"  She  shivered,  then  laid  a 
sudden  hand  on  Frona's  arm.  "  And  thou  goest  ?" 

Frona  nodded. 

"  And  Tenas  Hee-Hee  goest !    Ai !    Ai !    Ai !" 

The  tent-flap  lifted,  and  Matt  McCarthy  peered  in. 
"  It's  yerself,  Frona,  is  it?  With  breakfast  waitin'  this 
half-hour  on  ye,  an'  old  Andy  fumin'  an'  frettin'  like 
the  old  woman  he  is.  Good-mornin'  to  ye,  Neepoosa," 
he  addressed  Frona's  companions,  "  an'  to  ye,  Mus 
kim,  though  belike  ye've  little  mimory  iv  me  face." 

The  old  couple  grunted  salutation  and  remained 
stolidly  silent. 

"  But  hurry  with  ye,  girl,"  turning  back  to  Frona. 
"  Me  steamer  starts  by  mid-day,  an'  it's  little  I'll  see 
iv  ye  at  the  best.  An'  likewise  there's  Andy  an'  the 
breakfast  pipin'  hot,  both  iv  them." 


CHAPTER  III 


FRONA  waved  her  hand  to  Andy  and  swung  out  on 
the  trail.  Fastened  tightly  to  her  back  were  her  camera 
and  a  small  travelling  satchel.  In  addition,  she  car 
ried  for  alpenstock  the  willow  pole  of  Neepoosa.  Her 
dress  was  of  the  mountaineering  sort,  short-skirted  and 
scant,  allowing  the  greatest  play  with  the  least  material, 
and  withal  gray  of  color  and  modest. 

Her  outfit,  on  the  backs  of  a  dozen  Indians  and  in 
charge  of  Del  Bishop,  had  got  under  way  hours  be 
fore.  The  previous  day,  on  her  return  with  Matt  Mc 
Carthy  from  the  Siwash  camp,  she  had  found  Del 
Bishop  at  the  store  waiting  her.  His  business  was 
quickly  transacted,  for  the  proposition  he  made  was 
terse  and  to  the  point.  She  was  going  into  the  coun 
try.  He  was  intending  to  go  in.  She  would  need 
somebody.  If  she  had  not  picked  any  one  yet,  why  he 
was  just  the  man.  He  had  forgotten  to  tell  her  the 
day  he  took  her  ashore  that  he  had  been  in  the  coun 
try  years  before  and  knew  all  about  it.  True,  he  hated 
the  water,  and  it  was  mainly  a  water  journey;  but  he 
was  not  afraid  of  it.  He  was  afraid  of  nothing.  Fur 
ther,  he  would  fight  for  her  at  the  drop  of  the  hat.  As 
for  pay,  when  they  got  to  Dawson,  a  good  word  from 
her  to  Jacob  Welse,  and  a  year's  outfit  would  be 
his.  No,  no;  no  grub-stake  about  it,  no  strings 
on  him!  He  would  pay  for  the  outfit  later  on  when 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE    SNOWS 

his  sack  was  dusted.  What  did  she  think  about  it, 
anyway?  And  Frona  did  think  about  it,  for  ere  she 
had  finished  breakfast  he  was  out  hustling  the  pack 
ers  together. 

She  found  herself  making  better  speed  than  the  ma 
jority  of  her  fellows,  who  were  heavily  laden  and  had 
to  rest  their  packs  every  few  hundred  yards.  Yet  she 
fovnd  herself  hard  put  to  keep  the  pace  of  a  bunch  of 
Scandinavians  ahead  of  her.  They  were  huge  strap 
ping  blond-haired  giants,  each  striding  along  with  a 
hundred  pounds  on  his  back,  and  all  harnessed  to  a  go- 
cart  which  carried  fully  six  hundred  more.  Their 
faces  were  as  laughing  suns,  and  the  joy  of  life  was 
in  them.  The  toil  seemed  child's  play  and  slipped  from 
them  lightly.  They  joked  with  one  another,  and  with 
the  passers-by,  in  a  meaningless  tongue,  and  their  great 
chests  rumbled  with  cavern-echoing  laughs.  Men 
stood  aside  for  them,  and  looked  after  them  enviously ; 
for  they  took  the  rises  of  the  trail  on  the  run,  and  rat 
tled  down  the  counter  slopes,  and  ground  the  iron- 
rimmed  wheels  harshly  over  the  rocks.  Plunging 
through  a  dark  stretch  of  woods,  they  came  out  upon 
the  river  at  the  ford.  A  drowned  man  lay  on  his  back 
on  the  sand-bar,  staring  upward,  unblinking,  at  the 
sun.  A  man,  in  irritated  tones,  was  questioning 
over  and  over,  "Where's  his  pardner?  Ain't  he  got 
a  pardner?"  Two  more  men  had  thrown  off  their 
packs  and  were  coolly  taking  an  inventory  of  the 
dead  man's  possessions.  One  called  aloud  the  vari 
ous  articles,  while  the  other  checked  them  off  on  a 
piece  of  dirty  wrapping-paper.  Letters  and  receipts, 
wet  and  pulpy,  strewed  the  sand.  A  few  gold  coins 
were  heaped  carelessly  on  a  white  handkerchief. 

32 


A    DAUGHTER   OF   THE    SNOWS 

Other  men,  crossing  back  and  forth  in  canoes  and 
skirls,  took  no  notice. 

The  Scandinavians  glanced  at  the  sight,  and  their 
faces  sobered  for  a  moment.  "  Where's  his  pardner  ? 
Ain't  he  got  a  pardner?"  the  irritated  man  demanded 
of  them.  They  shook  their  heads.  They  did  not  un 
derstand  English.  They  stepped  into  the  water  and 
splashed  onward.  Some  one  called  warningly  from 
the  opposite  bank,  whereat  they  stood  still  and  con 
ferred  together.  Then  they  started  on  again.  The 
two  men  taking  the  inventory  turned  to  watch.  The 
current  rose  nigh  to  their  hips,  but  it  was  swift  and 
they  staggered,  while  now  and  again  the  cart  slipped 
sideways  with  the  stream.  The  worst  was  over,  and 
Frona  found  herself  holding  her  breath.  The  water 
had  sunk  to  the  knees  of  the  two  foremost  men,  when 
a  strap  snapped  on  one  nearest  the  cart.  His  pack 
swung  suddenly  to  the  side,  overbalancing  him.  At 
the  same  instant  the  man  next  to  him  slipped,  and  each 
jerked  the  other  under.  The  next  two  were  whipped 
off  their  feet,  while  the  cart,  turning  over,  swept  from 
the  bottom  of  the  ford  into  the  deep  water.  The  two 
men  who  had  almost  emerged  threw  themselves  back 
ward  on  the  pull-ropes.  The  effort  was  heroic,  but, 
giants  though  they  were,  the  task  was  too  great  and 
they  were  dragged,  inch  by  inch,  downward  and  under. 

Their  packs  held  them  to  the  bottom,  save  him  whose 
strap  had  broken.  This  one  struck  out,  not  to  the 
shore,  but  down  the  stream,  striving  to  keep  up  with 
his  comrades.  A  couple  of  hundred  feet  below,  the 
rapid  dashed  over  a  toothed-reef  of  rocks,  and  here,  a 
minute  later,  they  appeared.  The  cart,  still  loaded, 
showed  first,  smashing  a  wheel  and  turning  over  and 
3  33 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

over  into  the  next  plunge.  The  men  followed  in  a 
miserable  tangle.  They  were  beaten  against  the  sub 
merged  rocks  and  swept  on,  all  but  one.  Frona,  in  a 
canoe  (a  dozen  canoes  were  already  in  pursuit),  saw 
him  grip  the  rock  with  bleeding  fingers.  She  saw  his 
white  face  and  the  agony  of  the  effort;  but  his  hold 
relaxed  and  he  was  jerked  away,  just  as  his  free  com 
rade,  swimming  mightily,  was  reaching  for  him.  Hid 
den  from  sight,  they  took  the  next  plunge,  showing 
for  a  second,  still  struggling,  at  the  shallow  foot  of  the 
rapid. 

A  canoe  picked  up  the  swimming  man,  but  the  rest 
disappeared  in  a  long  stretch  of  swift,  deep  water.  For 
a  quarter  of  an  hour  the  canoes  plied  fruitlessly  about, 
then  found  the  dead  men  gently  grounded  in  an  eddy. 
A  tow-rope  was  requisitioned  frorri  an  up-coming  boat, 
and  a  pair  of  horses  from  a  pack-train  on  the  bank,  and 
the  ghastly  jetsam  hauled  ashore.  Frona  looked  at  the 
five  young  giants  lying  in  the  mud,  broken-boned, 
limp,  uncaring.  They  were  still  harnessed  to  the  cart, 
and  the  poor  worthless  packs  still  clung  to  their  backs. 
The  sixth  sat  in  the  midst,  dry-eyed  and  stunned.  A 
dozen  feet  away  the  steady  flood  of  life  flowed  by, 
and  Frona  melted  into  it  and  went  on. 

The  dark  spruce-shrouded  mountains  drew  close  to 
gether  in  the  Dyea  Canyon,  and  the  feet  of  men  churned 
the  wet  sunless  earth  into  mire  and  bog-hole.  And 
when  they  had  done  this  they  sought  new  paths,  till 
there  were  many  paths.  And  on  such  a  path  Frona 
came  upon  a  man  spread  carelessly  in  the  mud.  He  lay 
on  his  side,  legs  apart  and  one  arm  buried  beneath  him, 
pinned  down  by  a  bulky  pack.  His  cheek  was  pil- 

34 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

lowed  restfully  in  the  ooze,  and  on  his  face  there  was 
an  expression  of  content.  He  brightened  when  he  saw 
her,  and  his  eyes  twinkled  cheerily. 

"  'Bout  time  you  hove  along,"  he  greeted  her. 
"  Been  waitin'  an  hour  on  you  as  it  is." 

"  That's  it,"  as  Frona  bent  over  him.  "  Just  un 
buckle  that  strap.  The  pesky  thing !  'Twas  just  out  o' 
my  reach  all  the  time." 

"  Are  you  hurt  ?"  she  asked. 

He  slipped  out  of  his  straps,  shook  himself,  and  felt 
the  twisted  arm.  "  Nope.  Sound  as  a  dollar,  thank 
you.  And  no  kick  to  register,  either."  He  reached 
over  and  wiped  his  muddy  hands  on  a  low-bowed 
spruce.  "Just  my  luck;  but  I  got  a  good  rest,  so 
what's  the  good  of  makin'  a  beef  about  it?  You  see, 
I  tripped  on  tEat  little  root  there,  and  slip!  slump! 
slam!  and  slush! — there  I  was,  down  and  out,  and 
the  buckle  just  out  o'  reach.  And  there  I  lay  for  a 
blasted  hour,  everybody  hitting  the  lower  path." 

"  But  why  didn't  you  call  out  to  them?" 

"  And  make  'em  climb  up  the  hill  to  me  ?  Them  all 
tuckered  out  with  their  own  work  ?  Not  on  your  life ! 
Wasn't  serious  enough.  If  any  other  man  'd  make 
me  climb  up  just  because  he'd  slipped  down,  I'd  take 
him  out  o'  the  mud  all  right,  all  right,  and  punch  and 
punch  him  back  into  the  mud  again.  Besides,  I  knew 
omebody  was  bound  to  come  along  my  way  after  a 
while."  * 

"  Oh,  you'll  do !"  she  cried,  appropriating  Del 
Bishop's  phrase.  "  You'll  do  for  this  country !" 

"  Yep,"  he  called  back,  shouldering  his  pack  and 
starting  off  at  a  lively  clip.  "  And,  anyway,  I  got  a 
good  rest." 

35 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

The  trail  dipped  through  a  precipitous  morass  to 
the  river's  brink.  A  slender  pine-tree  spanned  the 
screaming  foam  and  bent  midway  to  touch  the  water. 
The  surge  beat  upon  the  taper  trunk  and  gave  it  a 
rhythmical  swaying  motion,  while  the  feet  of  the 
packers  had  worn  smooth  its  wave-washed  surface. 
Eighty  feet  it  stretched  in  ticklish  insecurity.  Frona 
stepped  upon  it,  felt  it  move  beneath  her,  heard  the 
bellowing  of  the  water,  saw  the  mad  rush — and  shrank 
back.  She  slipped  the  knot  of  her  shoe-laces  and 
pretended  great  care  in  the  tying  thereof  as  a  bunch 
of  Indians  came  out  of  the  woods  above  and  down 
through  the  mud.  Three  or  four  bucks  led  the  way, 
followed  by  many  squaws,  all  bending  in  the  head- 
straps  to  the  heavy  packs.  Behind  came  the  children 
burdened  according  to  their  years,  and  in  the  rear  half 
a  dozen  dogs,  tongues  lagging  out  and  dragging  for 
ward  painfully  under  their  several  loads. 

The  men  glanced  at  her  sideways,  and  one  of  them 
said  something  in  an  undertone.  Frona  could  not 
hear,  but  the  snicker  which  went  down  the  line  brought 
the  flush  of  shame  to  her  brow  and  told  her  more 
forcibly  than  could  the  words.  Her  face  was  hot,  for 
she  sat  disgraced  in  her  own  sight;  but  she  gave  no 
sign.  The  leader  stood  aside,  and  one  by  one,  and 
never  more  than  one  at  a  time,  they  made  the  perilous 
passage.  At  the  bend  in  the  middle  their  weight  forced 
the  tree  under,  and  they  felt  for  their  footing,  up  to 
the  ankles  in  the  cold,  driving  torrent.  Even  the  little 
children  made  it  without  hesitancy,  and  then  the  dogs, 
whining  and  reluctant  but  urged  on  by  the  man.  When 
the  k.st  had  crossed  over,  he  turned  to  Frona. 

"  Um  horse  trail,"  he  said,  pointing  up  the  moun- 
36 


A   DAUGHTER   OF  THE   SNOWS 

tain  side.      "  Much  better  you  take  um  horse  trail. 
More  far;  much  better." 

But  she  shook  her  head  and  waited  till  he  reached 
the  farther  bank;  for  she  felt  the  call,  not  only  upon 
her  own  pride,  but  Upon  the  pride  of  her  race ;  and  it 
was  a  greater  demand  than  her  demand,  just  as  the 
race  was  greater  than  she.  So  she  put  foot  upon  the 
log,  and,  with  the  eyes  of  the  alien  people  upon  her, 
walked  down  into  the  foam-white  swirl. 

She  came  upon  a  man  weeping  by  the  side  of  the 
trail.  His  pack,  clumsily  strapped,  sprawled  on  the 
ground.  He  had  taken  off  a  shoe,  and  one  naked  foot 
showed  swollen  and  blistered. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  she  asked,  halting  before 
him. 

He  looked  up  at  her,  then  down  into  the  depths 
where  the  Dyea  River  cut  the  gloomy  darkness  with 
its  living  silver.  The  tears  still  welled  in  his  eyes,  and 
he  sniffled. 

"  What  is  the  matter?"  she  repeated.  "  Can  I  be  of 
any  help?" 

"  No,"  he  replied.  "  How  can  you  help  ?  My  feet 
are  raw,  and  my  back  is  nearly  broken,  and  I  am  all 
tired  out.  Can  you  help  any  of  these  things?" 

"  Well,"  judiciously,  "  I  am  sure  it  might  be  worse. 
Think  of  the  men  who  have  just  landed  on  the  beach. 
It  will  take  them  ten  days  or  two  weeks  to  back-trip 
their  outfits  as  far  as  you  have  already  got  yours." 

"  But  my  partners  have  left  me  and  gone  on,"  he 
moaned,  a  sneaking  appeal  for  pity  in  his  voice.  "  And 
I  am  all  alone,  and  I  don't  feel  able  to  move  another 
step.  And  then  think  of  my  wife  and  babies.  I  left 

37 


A   DAUGHTER   OF  THE   SNOWS 

them  down  in  the  States.  Oh,  if  they  could  only  see 
me  now !  I  can't  go  back  to  them,  and  I  can't  go  on. 
It's  too  much  for  me.  I  can't  stand  it,  this  working 
like  a  horse.  I  was  not  made  to  work  like  a  horse. 
I'll  die,  I  know  I  will,  if  I  do.  Oh,  what  shall  I  do? 
What  shall  I  do?" 

"  Why  did  your  comrades  leave  you  ?" 

"  Because  I  was  not  so  strong  as  they ;  because  I 
could  not  pack  as  much  or  as  long.  And  they  laughed 
at  me  and  left  me." 

"  Have  you  ever  roughed  it?"  Frona  asked. 

"  No." 

"  You  look  well  put  up  and  strong.  Weigh  prob 
ably  one  hundred  and  sixty-five?" 

"  One  hundred  and  seventy,"  he  corrected. 

"  You  don't  look  as  though  you  had  ever  been 
troubled  with  sickness.  Never  an  invalid?" 

"  N-no." 

"And  your  comrades?    They  are  miners?" 

"  Neyer  mining  in  their  lives.  They  worked  in  the 
same  establishment  with  me.  That's  what  makes  it 
so  hard,  don't  you  see !  We'd  known  one  another  for 
years!  And  to  go  off  and  leave  me  just  because  I 
couldn't  keep  up!" 

"  My  friend,"  and  Frona  knew  she  was  speaking  for 
the  race,  "  you  are  strong  as  they.  You  can  work  just 
as  hard  as  they ;  pack  as  much.  But  you  are  weak  of 
heart.  This  is  no  place  for  the  weak  of  heart.  You 
cannot  work  like  a  horse  because  you  will  not.  There 
fore  the  country  has  no  use  for  you.  The  north  wants 
strong  men, — strong  of  soul,  not  body.  The  body  does 
not  count.  So  go  back  to  the  States.  We  do  not  want 
you  here.  If  you  come  you  will  die,  and  what  then  of 

38 


A    DAUGHTER    OF   THE   SNOWS 

your  wife  and  babies?    So  sell  out  your  outfit  and  go 
back.    You  will  be  home  in  three  weeks.    Good-by." 

She  passed  through  Sheep  Camp.  Son:ewhere 
above,  a  mighty  glacier,  under  the  pent  pressure  of 
a  subterranean  reservoir,  had  burst  asunder  and  hurJed 
a  hundred  thousand  tons  of  ice  and  water  down  ^. 
rocky  gorge.  The  trail  was  yet  slippery  with  the 
slime  of  the  flood,  and  men  were  rummaging  discon 
solately  in  the  rubbish  of  overthrown  tents  and  caches. 
But  here  and  there  they  worked  with  nervous  haste, 
and  the  stark  corpses  by  the  trail-side  attested  dumbly 
to  their  labor.  A  few  hundred  yards  beyond,  the  work 
of  the  rush  went  on  uninterrupted.  Men  rested  their 
packs  on  jutting  stones,  swapped  escapes  whilst  they 
regained  their  breath,  then  stumbled  on  to  their  toil 
again. 

The  mid-day  sun  beat  down  upon  the  stone  "  Scales." 
The  forest  had  given  up  the  struggle,  and  the  dizzying 
heat  recoiled  from  the  unclothed  rock.  On  either  hand 
rose  the  ice-marred  ribs  of  earth,  naked  and  strenuous 
in  their  nakedness.  Above  towered  storm-beaten  Chil- 
coot.  Up  its  gaunt  and  ragged  front  crawled  a  slen 
der  string  of  men.  But  it  was  an  endless  string.  It 
came  out  of  the  last  fringe  of  dwarfed  shrub  below, 
drew  a  black  line  across  a  dazzling  stretch  of  ice,  and 
filed  past  Frona  where  she  ate  her  lunch  by  the  way. 
And  it*  went  on,  up  the  pitch  of  the  steep,  growing 
fainter  and  smaller,  till  if  squirmed  and  twisted  like 
a  column  of  ants  and  vanished  over  the  crest  of  the 
pass. 

Even  as  she  looked,  Chilcoot  was  wrapped  in  roll- 
39 


A   •  m    OF   THE   SNOWS 


ing  mist  a  ^ng  cloud,  and  a  storm  of  sleet  and 

wind  ]•;  ,/"  upon  the  toiling  pigmies.    The  light 

^roi  the  day,  and  a  deep  gloom  prevailed ; 
Knew  that  somewhere  up  there,  clinging 
ng  and  immortally  striving,  the  long  line  of 
twisted  towards  the  sky.  And  she  thrilled  at 
ought,  strong  with  man's  ancient  love  of  mas- 
,  and  stepped  into  the  line  which  came  out  of  the 
rm  behind  and  disappeared  into  the  storm  before. 
She  blew  through  the  gap  of  the  pass  in  a  whirlwind 
of  vapor,  with  hand  and  foot  clambered  down  the 
volcanic  ruin  of  Chilcoot's  mighty  father,  and  stood 
on  the  bleak  edge  of  the  lake  which  filled  the  pit  of 
the  crater.  The  lake  was  angry  and  white-capped,  and, 
though  a  hundred  caches  were  waiting  ferriage,  no 
boats  were  plying  back  and  forth.  A  rickety  skeleton 
of  sticks,  in  a  shell  of  greased  canvas,  lay  upon  the 
rocks.  Frona  sought  out  the  owner,  a  bright-faced 
young  fellow,  with  sharp  black  eyes  and  a  salient  jaw. 
Yes,  he  was  the  ferryman,  but  he  had  quit  work  for 
the  day.  Water  too  rough  for  freighting.  He 
charged  twenty-five  dollars  for  passengers,  but  he  was 
not  taking  passengers  to-days  Had  he  not  said  it  was 
too  rough  ?  That  was  why. 

"  But  you  will  take  me,  surely  ?"  she  asked. 
He  shook  his  head  and  gazed  out  over  the  lake. 
"  At  the  far  end  it's  rougher  than  you  see  it  here. 
Even  the  big  wooden  boats  won't  tackle  it.  The  last 
that  tried,  with  a  gang  of  packers  aboard,  was  blown 
over  on  the  west  shore.  We  could  see  them  plainly. 
And  as  there's  no  trail  around  from  there,  they'll  have 
to  camp  it  out  till  the  blow  is  over." 

"  But  they're  better  off  than  I  am.    My  camp  outfit 
.40 


A    DAUGHTER    OF   THE    SNOWS 

is  at  Happy  Camp,  and  I  can't  very  well  stay  here." 
Frona  smiled  winsomely,  but  there  was  no  appeal  in 
the  smile;  no  feminine  helplessness  throwing  itself 
on  the  strength  and  chivalry  of  the  male.  "  Do  recon 
sider  and  take  me  across." 

"  No." 

"  I'll  give  you  fifty." 

"  No,  I  say." 

"  But  I'm  not  afraid,  you  know." 

The  young  fellow's  eyes  flashed  angrily.  He  turned 
upon  her  suddenly,  but  on  second  thought  did  not  utter 
the  words  forming  on  his  lips.  She  realized  the  unin 
tentional  slur  she  had  cast,  and  was  about  to  explain. 
But  on  second  thought  she,  too,  remained  silent;  for 
she  read  him,  and  knew  that  it  was  perhaps  the  only 
way  for  her  to  gain  her  point.  They  stood  there,  bodies 
inclined  to  the  storm  in  the  manner  of  seamen  on 
sloped  decks,  unyieldingly  looking  into  each  other's 
eyes.  His  hair  was  plastered  in  wet  ringlets  on  his 
forehead,  while  hers,  in  longer  wisps,  beat  furiously 
about  her  face. 

"  Come  on,  then !"  He  flung  the  boat  into  the  water 
with  an  angry  jerk,  ai  d  tossed  the  oars  aboard. 
"  Climb  in !  I'll  take  you,  but  not  for  your  fifty 
dollars.  You  pay  the  regulation  price,  and  that's  all." 

A  gust  of  the  gale  caught  the  light  shell  and  swept 
it  broadside  for  a  score  of  feet.  The  spray  drove  in 
board  in  a  continuous  stinging  shower,  and  Frona  at 
once  fell  to  work  with  the  bailing-can. 

"  I  hope  we're  blown  ashore,"  he  shouted,  stooping 
forward  to  the  oars.  "  It  would  be  embarrassing — for 
you."  He  looked  up  savagely  into  her  face. 

"  No,"  she  modified ;   "  but  it  would  be  very  miser- 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

able  for  both  of  us,  —  a  night  without  tent,  blankets, 
or  fire.    Besides,  we're  not  going  to  blow  ashore." 


stepped  out  on  the  slippery  rocks  and  helped  him 
heave  up  the  canvas  craft  and  tilt  the  water  out.  On 
either  side  uprose  bare  wet  walls  of  rock.  A  heavy 
sleet  was  falling  steadily,  through  which  a  few  stream 
ing  caches  showed  in  the  gathering  darkness. 

"  You'd  better  hurry  up,"  he  advised,  thanking  her 
for  the  assistance  and  relaunching  the  boat.  "  Two 
miles  of  stiff  trail  from  here  to  Happy  Camp.  No 
wood  until  you  get  there,  so  you'd  best  hustle  along. 
Good-by." 

Frona  reached  out  and  took  his  hand,  and  said, 
"  You  are  a  brave  man." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know."  He  returned  the  grip  with 
usury  and  looked  his  admiration. 

A  dozen  tents  held  grimly  to  their  pegs  on  the  ex 
treme  edge  of  the  timber  line  at  Happy  Camp.  Frona, 
weary  with  the  day,  went  from  tent  to  tent.  Her  wet 
skirts  clung  heavily  to  her  tired  limbs,  while  the  wind 
buffeted  her  brutally  about.  Once,  through  a  canvas 
wall,  she  heard  a  man  apostrophizing  gorgeously,  and 
felt  sure  that  it  was  Del  Bishop.  But  a  peep  into  the 
interior  told  a  different  tale;  so  she  wandered  fruit 
lessly  on  till  she  reached  the  last  tent  in  the  camp.  She 
untied  the  flap  and  looked  in.  A  spluttering  candle 
showed  the  one  occupant,  a  man,  down  on  his  knees 
and  blowing  lustily  into  the  fire-box  of  a  smoky  Yukon 


42 


CHAPTER   IV 


SHE  cast  off  the  lower  flap-fastenings  and  entered. 
The  man  still  blew  into  the  stove,  unaware  of  his 
company.  Frona  coughed,  and  he  raised  a  pair  of 
smoke-reddened  eyes  to  hers. 

"  Certainly,"  he  said,  casually  enough.  "  Fasten  the 
flaps  and  make  yourself  comfortable."  And  thereat  re 
turned  to  his  borean  task.  \^&J£$L? 

"Hospitable,  tcT"say  the  least,"  she  commented  to 
herself,  obeying  his  command  and  coming  up  to  the 
stove. 

A  heap  of  dwarfed  spruce,  gnarled  and  wet  and  cut 
to  proper  stove-length,  lay  to  one  side.  Frona  knew 
it  well,  creeping  and  crawling  and  twisting  itself 
among  the  rocks  of  the  shallow  alluvial  deposit,  unlike 
its  arboreal  prototype,  rarely  lifting  its  head  more  than 
a  foot  from  the  earth.  She  looked  into  the  oven,  found 
it  empty,  and  filled  it  with  the  wet  wood.  The  man 
arose  to  his  feet,  coughing  from  the  smoke  which  had 
been  driven  into  his  lungs,  and  nodding  approval. 

When  he  had  recovered  his  breath,  "  Sit  down  and 
dry  your  skirts.  I'll  get  supper." 

He  put  a  coffee-pot  on  the  front  lid  of  the  stove, 
emptied  the  bucket  into  it,  and  went  out  of  the  tent 
after  more  water.  As  his  back  disappeared,  Frona 
dived  for  her  satchel,  and  when  he  returned  a  mo 
ment  later  he  found  her  with  a  dry  skirt  on  and 


A  DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

wringing  the  wet  one  out.  While  he  fished  about  in 
the  grub-box  for  dishes  and  eating  utensils,  she 
stretched  a  spare  bit  of  rope  between  the  tent-poles  and 
hung  the  skirt  on  it  to  dry.  The  dishes  were  dirty, 
and,  as  he  bent  over  and  washed  them,  she  turned  her 
back  and  deftly  changed  her  stockings.  Her  child 
hood  had  taught  her  the  value  of  well-cared  feet  for 
the  trail.  She  put  her  wet  shoes  on  a  pile  of  wood  at 
the  back  of  the  stove,  substituting  for  them  a  pair  of 
soft  and  dainty  house-moccasins  of  Indian  make.  The 
fire  had  now  grown  strong,  and  she  was  content  to  let 
her  under-garments  dry  on  her  body. 

During  all  this  time  neither  had  spoken  a  word. 
Not  only  had  the  man  remained  silent,  but  he  went 
about  his  work  in  so  preoccupied  a  way  that  it  seemed 
to  Frona  that  he  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  the  words  of 
explanation  she  would  have  liked  to  utter.  His  whole 
bearing  conveyed  the  impression  that  it  was  the  most 
ordinary  thing  under  the  sun  for  a  young  woman  to 
come  in  out  of  the  storm  and  night  and  partake  of  his 
hospitality.  In  one  way,  she  liked  this ;  but  in  so  far 
as  she  did  not  comprehend  it,  she  was  troubled.  She 
had  a  perception  of  a  something  being  taken  for 
granted  which  she  did  not  understand.  Once  or  twice 
she  moistened  her  lips  to  speak,  but  he  appeared  so 
oblivious  of  her  presence  that  she  withheld. 

After  opening  a  can  of  corned  beef  with  the  axe.  he 
fried  half  a  dozen  thick  slices  of  bacon,  set  the  frying- 
pan  back,  and  boiled  the  coffee.  From  the  grub-box 
he  resurrected  the  half  of  a  cold  heavy  flapjack.  He 
looked  at  it  dubiously,  and  shot  a  quick  glance  at  her. 
Then  he  threw  the  sodden  thing  out  of  doors  and 
dumped  the  contents  of  a  sea-biscuit  bag  upon  a  camp 

44 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

cloth.  The  sea-biscuit  had  been  crumbled  into 
chips  and  fragments  and  generously  soaked  by  the 
rain  till  it  had  become  a  mushy,  pulpy  mass  of  dirty 
white. 

"  It's  all  I  have  in  the  way  of  bread,"  he  muttered ; 
"  but  sit  down  and  we  will  make  the  best  of  it." 

"  One  moment "  And  before  he  could  protest, 

Frona  had  poured  the  sea-biscuit  into  the  frying-pan 
on  top  of  the  grease  and  bacon.  To  this  she  added  a 
couple  of  cups  of  water  and  stirred  briskly  over  the 
fire.  When  it  had  sobbed  and  sighed  with  the  heat 
for  some  few  minutes,  she  sliced  up  the  corned  beef 
and  mixed  it  in  with  the  rest.  And  by  the  time  she  had 
seasoned  it  heavily  with  salt  and  black  pepper,  a  savory 
steam  was  rising  from  the  concoction. 

"  Must  say  it's  pretty  good  stuff,"  he  said,  balancing 
his  plate  on  his  knee  and  sampling  the  mess  avidi- 
ously.  "  What  do  you  happen  to  call  it?" 

"  Slumgullion,"  she  responded  curtly,  and  there 
after  the  meal  went  on  in  silence. 

Frona  helped  him  to  the  coffee,  studying  him  in 
tently  the  while.  And  not  only  was  it  not  an  unpleas 
ant  face,  she  decided,  but  it  was  strong.  Strong,  she 
amended,  potentially  rather  than  actually.  A  student, 
she  added,  for  she  had  seen  many  students'  eyes 
and  knew  the  lasting  impress  of  the  midnight  oil 
long  continued ;  and  his  eyes  bore  the  impress.  Brown 
eyes,  she  concluded,  and  handsome  as  the  male's  should 
be  handsome;  but  she  noted  with  surprise,  when  she 
refilled  his  plate  with  slumgullion,  that  they  were  not 
at  all  brown  in  the  ordinary  sense,  but  hazel-brown. 
In  the  daylight,  she  felt  certain,  and  in  times  of  best 
health,  they  would  seem  gray,  and  almost  blue-gray. 

45 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

She  knew  it  well;  her  one  girl  chum  and  dearest 
friend  had  had  such  an  eye. 

His  hair  was  chestnut-brown,  glinting  in  the  candle 
light  to  gold,  and  the  hint  of  waviness  in  it  explained 
the  perceptible  droop  to  his  tawny  moustache.  For  the 
rest,  his  face  was  clean-shaven  and  cut  on  a  good  mas- 
culin^  pattern.  At  first  she  found  fault  with  the  more 
than  slight  cheek-hollows  under  the  cheek-bones,  but 
when  she  measured  his  well-knit,  slenderly  muscular 
figure,  with  its  deep  chest  and  heavy  shoulders,  she 
discovered  that  she  preferred  the  hollows;  at  least 
they  did  not  imply  lack  of  nutrition.  The  body  gave 
the  lie  to  that;  while  they  themselves  denied  the  vice 
of  over-feeding.  Height,  five  feet,  nine,  she  summed 
up  from  out  of  her  gymnasium  experience;  and  age 
anywhere  between  twenty-five  and  thirty,  though 
nearer  the  former  most  likely. 

"  Haven't  many  blankets,"  he  said  abruptly,  pausing 
to  drain  his  cup  and  set  it  over  on  the  grub-box.  "  I 
don't  expect  my  Indians  back  from  Lake  Linderman 
till  morning,  and  the  beggars  have  packed  over  every 
thing  except  a  few  sacks  of  flour  and  the  bare  camp 
outfit.  However,  I've  a  couple  of  heavy  ulsters  which 
will  serve  just  as  well." 

He  turned  his  back,  as  though  he  did  not  expect  a 
reply,  and  untied  a  rubber-covered  roll  of  blankets. 
Then  he  drew  the  two  ulsters  from  a  clothes-bag  and 
threw  them  down  on  the  bedding. 

"Vaudeville  artist,  I  suppose?" 

He»asked  the  question  seemingly  without  interest,  as 
though  to  keep  the  conversation  going,  and,  in  fact, 
as  if  he  knew  the  stereotyped  answer  beforehand.  But 
to  Frona  the  question  was  like  a  blow  in  the  face.  She 

46 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE   SNOWS 

remembered  Neepoosa's  philippic  against  the  white 
women  who  were  coming  into  the  land,  and  realized 
the  falseness  of  her  position  and  the  way  in  which  he 
looked  upon  her. 

But  he  went  on  before  she  could  speak.  "  Last 
night  I  had  two  vaudeville  queens,  and  three  the  night 
before.  Only  there  was  more  bedding  then.  It's  un 
fortunate,  isn't  it,  the  aptitude  they  display  in  getting 
lost  from  their  outfits?  Yet  somehow  I  have  failed  to 
find  any  lost  outfits  so  far.  And  they  are  all  queens, 
it  seems.  No  under-studies  or  minor  turns  about 
them, — no,  no.  And  I  presume  you  are  a  queen, 
too?" 

The  too-ready  blood  sprayed  her  cheek,  and  this 
made  her  angrier  than  did  he;  for  whereas  she  was 
sure  of  the  steady  grip  she  had  on  herself,  her  flushed 
face  betokened  a  confusion  which  did  not  really 
possess  her. 

"  No,"  she  answered,  coolly ;  "  I  am  not  a  vaudeville 
artist." 

He  tossed  several  sacks  of  flour  to  one  side  of  the 
stove,  without  replying,  and  made  of  them  the  founda 
tion  of  a  bed ;  and  with  the  remaining  sacks  he  dupli 
cated  the  operation  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  stove. 

"  But  you  are  some  kind  of  an  artist,  then,"  he  in 
sisted  when  he  had  finished,  witfTan^open  contempt  on 
the  "  artist." 

"  Unfortunately,  I  am  not  any  kind  of  an  artist  at 
all." 

He  dropped  the  blanket  he  was  folding  and  straight 
ened  his  back.  Hitherto  he  had  no  more  than  glanced 
at  her;  but  now  he  scrutinized  her  carefully,  every 
inch  of  her,  from  head  to  heel  and  back  again,  the  cut 

47 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

of  her  garments  and  the  very  way  she  did  her  hair. 
And  he  took  his  time  about  it. 

"  Oh !  I  beg  pardon/'  was  his  verdict,  followed  by 
/  another  stare.  "  Then  you  are  a  very  foolish  woman, 
dreaming  of  fortune  and  shutting  your  eyes  to  the  dan 
gers  of  the  pilgrimage.  It  is  only  meet  that  two  kinds 
of  women  come  into  this  country.  Those  who  by  virtue 
of  wifehood  and  daughterhood  are  respectable,  and 
those  who  are  not  respectable.  Vaudeville  stars  and 
artists,  they  call  themselves  for  the  sake  of  decency; 
and  out  of  courtesy  we  countenance  it.  Yes,  yes,  I 
know.  But  remember,  the  women  who  come  over  the 
/  trail  must  be  one  or  the  other.  There  is  no  middle 
course,  and  those  who  attempt  it  are  bound  to  fail.  So 
you  are  a  very,  very  foolish  girl,  and  you  had  better 
turn  back  while  there  is  yet  a  chance.  If  you  will  view 
I  it  in  the  light  of  a  loan  from  a  stranger,  I  will  advance 
your  passage  back  to  the  States,  and  start  an  Indian 
over  the  trail  with  you  to-morrow  for  Dyea." 

Once  or  twice  Frona  had  attempted  to  interrupt  him, 
but  he  had  waved  her  imperatively  to  silence  with  his 
hand. 

"  I  thank  you,5'  she  began ;  but  he  broke  in, — 

"  Oh,  not  at  all,  not  at  all." 

"  I  thank  you,"  she  repeated ;  but  it  happens  that 
— a— that  you  are  mistaken.  I  have  just  come  over 
the  trail  from  Dyea  and  expect  to  meet  my  outfit 
already  in  camp  here  at  Happy  Camp.  They  started 
hours  ahead  of  me,  and  I  can't  understand  how  I 
passed  them — yes  I  do,  too!  A  boat  was  blown  over 
to  the  west  shore  of  Crater  Lake  this  afternoon,  and 
they  must  have  been  in  it.  That  is  where  I  missed 
them  and  came  on.  As  for  my  turning  back,  I  appre- 

48 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE   SNOWS 

ciate  your  motive  for  suggesting  it,  but  my  father  is 
in  Dawson,  and  I  have  not  seen  him  for  three  years. 
Also,  I  have  come  through  from  Dyea  this  day,  and 
am  tired,  and  I  would  like  to  get  some  rest.  So,  if 
you  still  extend  your  hospitality,  I'll  go  to  bed." 

"  Impossible !"  He  kicked  the  blankets  to  one  side, 
sat  down  on  the  flour  sacks,  and  directed  a  blank  look 
upon  her. 

"  Are — are  there  any  women  in  the  other  tents  ?" 
she  asked,  hesitatingly.  "  I  did  not  see  any,  but  I  may 
have  overlooked." 

"  A  man  and  his  wife  were,  but  they  pulled  stakes 
this  morning.  No ;  there  are  no  other  women  except 
— except  two  or  three  in  a  tent,  which — er — which  will 
not  do  for  you." 

"  Do  you  think  I  am  afraid  of  their  hospitality  ?" 
she  demanded,  hotly.  "  As  you  said,  they  are  women." 

"  But  I  said  it  would  not  do,"  he  answered,  ab 
sently,  staring  at  the  straining  canvas  and  listening  to 
the  roar  of  the  storm.  "  A  man  would  die  in  the  open 
on  a  night  like  this. 

"  And  the  other  tents  are  crowded  to  the  walls,"  he 
mused.  "  I  happen  to  know.  They  have  stored  all 
their  caches  inside  because  of  the  water,  and  they 
haven't  room  to  turn  around.  Besides,  a  dozen  other 
strangers  are  storm-bound  with  them.  Two  or  three 
asked  to  spread  their  beds  in  here  to-night  if  they 
couldn't  pinch  room  elsewhere.  Evidently  they  have; 
but  that  does  not  argue  that  there  is  any  surplus  space 
left.  And  anyway " 

He  broke  off  helplessly.  The  inevitableness  of  the 
situation  was  growing. 

"Can  I  make  Deep  Lake  to-night?"  Frona  asked, 
4  *  49 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

forgetting  herself  to  sympathize  with  him,  then  be 
coming  conscious  of  what  she  was  doing  and  bursting 
into  laughter. 

"  But  you  couldn't  ford  the  river  in  the  dark." 
He  frowned  at  her  levity.  "  And  there  are  no  camps 
between." 

"  Are  you  afraid  ?"  she  asked  with  just  the  shadow 
of  a  sneer. 

"  Not  for  myself." 

"  Well,  then,  I  think  I'll  go  to  bed." 

"  I  might  sit  up  and  keep  the  fire  going,"  he  sug 
gested  after  a  pause. 

"  Fiddlesticks !"  she  cried.  "  As  though  your  fool-; 
ish  little  code  were  saved  in  the  least!  We  are  not  in 
civilization.  This  is  the  trail  to  the  Pole.  Go  to  bed." 

He  elevated  his  shoulders  in  token  of  surrender. 
"Agreed.  What  shall  I  do  then?" 

"  Help  me  make  my  bed,  of  course.  Sacks  laid 
crosswise!  Thank  you,  sir,  but  I  have  bones  and 

muscles  that  rebel.  Here Pull  them  around  this 

way." 

Under  her  direction  he  laid  the  sacks  lengthwise  in 
a  double  row.  This  left  an  uncomfortable  hollow  with 
lumpy  sack-corners  down  the  middle;  but  she  smote 
them  flat  with  the  side  of  the  axe,  and  in  the  same 
manner  lessened  the  slope  to  the  walls  of  the  hollow. 
Then  she  made  a  triple  longitudinal  fold  in  a  blanket 
and  spread  it  along  the  bottom  of  the  long  depres 
sion. 

"  Hum !"  he  soliloquized.  "  Now  I  see  why  I  slept 
so  badly.  Here  goes !"  And  lie  speedily  flung  his  own 
sacks  into  shape. 

"  It  is  plain  you  are  unused  to  the  trail,"  she  in- 
50 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE   SNOWS 

formed  him,  spreading  the  topmost  blanket  and  sitting 
down. 

"  Perhaps  so/'  he  made  answer.  "  But  what  do  you 
know  about  this  trail  life?"  he  growled  a  little  later. 

"  Enough  to  conform,"  she  rejoined  equivocally, 
pulling  out  the  dried  wood  from  the  oven  and  replacing 
it  with  wet. 

"  Listen  to  it !  How  it  storms !"  he  exclaimed. 
"  It's  growing  worse,  if  worse  be  possible." 

The  tent  reeled  under  the  blows  of  the  wind,  the 
canvas  booming  hollowly  at  every  shock,  while  the 
sleet  and  rain  rattled  overhead  like  skirmish-fire 
grown  into  a  battle.  In  the  lulls  they  could  hear  the 
water  streaming  off  at  the  side-walls  with  the  noise 
of  small  cataracts.  He  reached  up  curiously  and 
touched  the  wet  roof.  A  burst  of  water  followed 
instantly  at  the  point  of  contact  and  coursed  down 
upon  the  grub-box. 

"  You  mustn't  do  that !"  Frona  cried,  springing  to 
her  feet.  She  put  her  finger  on  the  spot,  and,  press 
ing  tightly  against  the  canvas,  ran  it  down  to  the 
side-wall.  The  leak  at  once  stopped.  "  You  mustn't 
do  it,  you  know,"  she  reproved. 

"  Jove !"  was  his  reply.  "  And  you  came  through 
from  Dyea  to-day!  Aren't  you  stiff?" 

"  Quite  a  bit,"  she  confessed,  candidly,  "  and 
sleepy." 

''  Good-night,"  she  called  to  him  several  minutes 
later,  stretching  her  body  luxuriously  in  the  warm 
blankets.  And  a  quarter  of  an  hour  after  that,  "  Oh, 
I  say!  Are  you  awake?" 

"Yes,"  his  voice  came  muffled  across  the  stove. 
"What  is  it?" 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

"  Have  you  the  shavings  cut  ?" 

"  Shavings  ?"  he  queried,  sleepily.  "  What  shav- 
ings?" 

"  For  the  fire  in  the  morning,  of  course.  So  get  up 
and  cut  them." 

He  obeyed  without  a  word;  but  ere  he  was  done 
she  had  ceased  to  hear  him. 

The  ubiquitous  bacon  was  abroad  on  the  air  when 
she  opened  her  eyes.  Day  had  broken,  and  with  it  the 
storm.  The  wet  sun  was  shining  cheerily  over  the 
drenched  landscape  and  in  at  the  wide-spread  flaps. 
Already  work  had  begun,  and  groups  of  men  were 
filing  past  under  their  packs.  Frona  turned  over  on 
her  side.  Breakfast  was  cooked.  Her  host  had  just 
put  the  bacon  and  fried  potatoes  in  the  oven,  and  was 
engaged  in  propping  the  door  ajar  with  two  sticks 
of  firewood. 

"  Good-morning,"  she  greeted. 

"  And  good-morning  to  you,"  he  responded,  rising 
to  his  feet  and  picking  up  the  water-bucket.  "  I  don't 
hope  that  you  slept  well,  for  I  know  you  did." 

Frona  laughed. 

"  I'm  going  out  after  some  water,"  he  vouchsafed. 
"  And  when  I  return  I  shall  expect  you  ready  for 
breakfast." 

After  breakfast,  basking  herself  in  the  sun,  Frona 
descried  a  familiar  bunch  of  men  rounding  the  tail  of 
the  glacier  in  the  direction  of  Crater  Lake.  She 
clapped  her  hands. 

"  There  comes  my  outfit,  and  Del  Bishop  as  shame 
faced  as  can  be,  Fm  sure,  at  his  failure  to  connect." 
Turning  to  the  man,  and  at  the  same  time  slinging 
camera  and  satchel  over  her  shoulder,  "  So  I  must  say/ 

52 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

good-by,  not  forgetting  to  thank  you  for  your  kind 
ness." 

"  Oh,  not  at  all,  not  at  all.  Pray  don't  mention  it. 
I'd  do  the  same  for  any " 

"  Vaudeville  artist !" 

He  looked  his  reproach,  but  went  on.  "  I  don't  know 
your  name,  nor  do  I  wish  to  know  it." 

"  Well,  I  shall  not  be  so  harsh,  for  I  do  know  your 
name,  MISTER  VANCE  CORLISS  !  I  saw  it  on  the  ship 
ping  tags,  of  course,"  she  explained.  "  And  I  want 
you  to  come  and  see  me  when  you  get  to  Dawson.  My 
name  is  Frona  Welse.  Good-by." 

"Your  father  is  not  Jacob  Welse?"  he  called  after 
her  as  she  ran  lightly  down  towards  the  trail. 

She  turned  her  head  and  nodded. 

But  Del  Bishop  was  not  shamefaced,  nor  even  wor 
ried.  "  Trust  a  Welse  to  land  on  their  feet  on  a  soft 
spot,"  he  had  consoled  himself  as  he  dropped  off  to 
sleep  the  night  before.  But  he  was  angry — "  madder 
Jn  hops,"  in  his  own  vernacular. 

"  Good-mornin',"  he  saluted.  "  And  it's  plain  by 
your  face  you  had  a  comfortable  night  of  it,  and  no 
thanks  to  me." 

"  You  weren't  worried,  were  you  ?"  she  asked. 

"Worried?  About  a  Welse?  Who?  Me?  Not 
on  your  life.  I  was  too  busy  tellin'  Crater  Lake  what 
I  thought  of  it.  I  don't  like  the  water.  I  told  you 
so.  And  it's  always  playin'  me  scurvy — not  that  I'm 
afraid  of  it,  though." 

"  Hey,  you  Pete !"  turning  to  the  Indians.  "  Hit  'er 
up!  Got  to  make  Linderman  by  noon!" 

"  Frona  Welse  ?"  Vance  Corliss  was  repeating  to 
himself. 

53 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

The  whole  thing  seemed  a  dream,  and  he  reassured 
himself  by  turning  and  looking  after  her  retreating 
form.  Del  Bishop  and  the  Indians  were  already  out 
of  sight  behind  a  wall  of  rock.  Frona  was  just  round 
ing  the  base.  The  sun  was  full  upon  her,  and  she 
stood  out  radiantly  against  the  black  shadow  of  the 
wall  beyond.  She  waved  her  alpenstock,  and  as  he 
doffed  his  cap,  rounded  the  brink  and  disappeared. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  position  occupied  by  Jacob  Welse  was  certainly 
an  anomalous  one.  He  was  a  giant  trader  in  a  country 
without  commerce,  a  ripened  product  of  the  nineteenth 
century  flourishing  in  a  society  as  primitive  as  that  of 
the  Mediterranean  vandals.  A  captain  of  industry  and 
a  splendid  monopolist,  he  dominated  the  most  inde 
pendent  aggregate  of  men  ever  drawn  together  from 
the  ends  of  the  earth.  ;  An  economic  missionary,  a 
commercial  St.  Paul,  he  preached  the  doctrines  of  ex 
pediency  and  force.  Believing  in  the  natural  rights 
of  man,  a  child  himself  of  democracy,  he  bent  all  men 
to  his  absolutism.  Government  of  Jacob  Welse,  for 
Jacob  Welse  and  the  people,  by  Jacob  Welse,  was  his 
unwritten  gospel.  Single-handed  he  had  carved  out 
his  dominion  till  he  gripped  the  domain  of  a  dozen 
Roman  provinces.  At  his  ukase  the  population  ebbed 
and  flowed  over  a  hundred  thousand  miles  of  territory, 
and  cities  sprang  up  or  disappeared  at  his  bidding. 

Yet  he  was  a  common  man.  The  air  of  the  world 
first  smote  his  lungs  on  the  open  prairie  by  the  River 
Platte,  the  blue  sky  over  head,  and  beneath,  the  green 
grass  of  the  earth  pressing  against  his  tender  naked 
ness.  On  the  horses  his  eyes  first  opened,  still  saddled 
and  gazing  in  mild  wonder  on  the  miracle;  for  his 
trapper  father  had  but  turned  aside  from  the  trail  that 
the  wife  might  have  quiet  and  the  birth  be  accom- 

55 


A   DAUGHTER   OF  THE   SNOWS 

plished.  An  hour  or  so  and  the  two,  which  were  now 
three,  were  in  the  saddle  and  overhauling  their  trapper 
comrades.  The  party  had  not  been  delayed;  no  time 
lost.  In  the  morning  his  mother  cooked  the  breakfast 
over  the  camp-fire,  and  capped  it  with  a  fifty-mile  ride 
into  the  next  sun-down. 

The  trapper  father  had  come  of  the  sturdy  Welsh 
stock  which  trickled  into  early  Ohio  out  of  the  jostling 
East,  and  the  mother  was  a  nomadic  daughter  of  the 
Irish  emigrant  settlers  of  Ontario.  From  both  sides 
came  the  Wanderlust  of  the  blood,  the  fever  to  be 
moving,  to  be  pushing  on  to  the  edge  of  things.  In  the 
first  year  of  his  life,  ere  he  had  learned  the  way  of  his 
legs,  Jacob  Welse  had  wandered  a-horse  through  a 
thousand  miles  of  wilderness,  and  wintered  in  a  hunt 
ing-lodge  on  the  head-waters  of  the  Red  River  of  the 
North.  His  first  foot-gear  was  moccasins,  Kis  first 
taffy  the  tallow  from  a  moose.  His  first  generaliza 
tions  were  that  the  world  was  composed  of  great 
wastes  and  white  vastnesses,  and  populated  with  In 
dians  and  white  hunters  like  his  father.  A  town  was 
a  cluster  of  deer-skin  lodges;  a  trading-post  a  3eat 
of  civilization;  and  a  factor  God  Almighty  Himself. 
Rivers  and  lakes  existed  chiefly  for  man's  use  in  travel 
ling.  Viewed  in  this  light,  the  mountains  puzzled 
him;  but  he  placed  them  away  in  his  classification  of 
the  Inexplicable  and  did  not  worry.  Men  died,  some 
times.  But  their  meat  was  not  good  to  eat,  and  their 
hides  worthless, — perhaps  because  they  did  not  grow 
fur.  Pelts  were  valuable,  and  with  a  few  bales  a  man 
might  purchase  the  earth.  Animals  were  made  for 
men  to  catch  and  skin.  He  did  not  know  what  men 
were  made  for,  unless,  perhaps,  for  the  factor. 

56 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

As  he  grew  older  he  modified  these  concepts,  but 
the  process  was  a  continual  source  of  naive  apprehen 
sion  and  wonderment.  It  was  not  until  he  became  a 
man  and  had  wandered  through  half  the  cities  of  the 
States  that  this  expression  of  childish  wonder  passed 
out  of  his  eyes  and  left  them  wholly  keen  and  alert. 
At  his  boy's  first  contact  with  the  cities,  while  he  re 
vised  his  synthesis  of  things,  he  also  generalized 
afresh.  People  who  lived  in  cities  were  effeminate. 
They  did  not  carry  the  points  of  the  compass  in  their 
heads,  and  they  got  lost  easily.  That  was  why  they 
elected  to  stay  in  the  cities.  Because  they  might  catch 
cold  and  because  Ihey  were  afraid  of  the  dark,  they 
slept  under  shelter  and  locked  their  doors  at  night. 
The  women  were  soft  and  pretty,  but  they  could  not 
lift  a  snowshoe  far  in  a  day's  journey.  Everybody 
talked  too  much.  That  was  why  they  lied  and  were 
unable  to  work  greatly  with  their  hands.  Finally, 
there  was  a  new  human  force  called  "  bluff."  A  man 
who  made  a  bluff  must  be  dead  sure  of  it,  or  else  be 
prepared  to  back  it  up.  Bluff  was  a  very  good  thing 
— when  exercised  with  discretion. 

Later,  though  living  his  life  mainly  in  the  woods 
and  mountains,  he  came  to  know  'that  the  cities  were 
not  all  bad;  that  a  man  might  live  in  a  city  and  still 
be  a  man.  Accustomed  to  do  battle  with  natural  forces, 
he  was  attracted  by  the  commercial  battle  with  social 
forces.  The  masters  of  marts  and  exchanges  dazzled 
but  did  not  blind  him,  and  he  studied  them,  and  strove 
to  grasp  the  secrets  of  their  strength.  And  further, 
in  token  that  some  good  did  come  out  of  Nazareth,  in 
the  full  tide  of  manhood  he  took  to  himself  a  city-bred 
woman.  But  he  still  yearned  for  the  edge  of  things, 

57 


„       A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

and  the  leaven  in  his  blood  worked  till  they  went  away, 
and  above  the  Dyea  Beach,  on  the  rim  of  the  forest, 
built  the  big  log  trading-post.  And  here,  .in  the  mel 
low  of  time,  he  got  a  proper  focus  on  things  and 
unified  the  phenomena  of  society  precisely  as  he  had 
already  unified  the  phenomena  of  nature.  There  was 
naught  in  one  which  could  not  be  expressed  in  terms  of 
the  other.  The  same  principles  underlaid  both;  the 
same  truths  were  manifest  of  both.  Competition  was 
the  secret  of  creation.  Battle  was  the  law  and  the  way 
of  progress.  The  world  was  made  for  the  strong,  and 
only  the  strong  inherited  it,  and  through  it  all  there 
ran  an  eternal  equity.  To  be  honest  was  to  be  strong. 
To  sin  was  to  weaken.  To  bluff  an  honest  man  was 
to  be  dishonest.  To  bluff  a  bluffer  was  to  smite  with 
the  steel  of  justice.  The  primitive  strength  was  in 
the  arm ;  the  modern  strength  in  the  brain.  Though 
it  had  shifted  ground,  the  struggle  was  the  same 
old  struggle.  As  of  old  time,  men  still  fought  for 
the  mastery  of  the  earth  and  the  delights  thereof. 
But  the  sword  had  given  way  to  the  ledger;  the 
mail-clad  baron  to  the  soft-garbed  industrial  lord,  and 
the  centre  of  imperial  political  power  to  the  seat 
of  commercial  exchanges.  The  modern  will  had 
destroyed  the  ancient  brute.  The  stubborn  earth 
yielded  only  to  force.  Brain  was  greater  than  body. 
The  man  with  the  brain  could  best  conquer  things 
primitive. 

He  did  not  have  much  education  as  education  goes. 
To  the  three  R's  his  mother  taught  him  by  camp-fire 
and  candle-light,  he  had  added  a  somewhat  miscel 
laneous  book-knowledge;  but  he  was  not  burdened 
with  what  he  had  gathered.  Yet  he  read  the  facts 

58 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

of  life  understandingly,  and  the  sobriety  which  comes 
of  the  soil  was  his,  and  the  clear  earth-vision. 

And  so  it  came  about  that  Jacob  Welse  crossed  over 
the  Chilcoot  in  an  early  day,  and  disappeared  into  the 
vast  unknown.  A  year  later  he  emerged  at  the  Rus 
sian  missions  clustered  about  the  mouth  of  the  Yukon 
on  Bering  Sea.  He  had  journeyed  down  a  river  three 
thousand  miles  long,  he  had  seen  things,  and  dreamed 
a  great  dream.  But  he  held  his  tongue  and  went  to 
work,  and  one  day  the  defiant  whistle  of  a  crazy  stern- 
wheel  tub  saluted  the  midnight  sun  on  the  dank  river- 
stretch  by  Fort  o'  Yukon.  It  was  a  magnificent  ad 
venture.  How  he  achieved  it  only  Jacob  Welse  can 
tell;  but  with  the  impossible  to  begin  with,  plus  the 
impossible,  he  added  steamer  to  steamer  and  heaped 
enterprise  upon  enterprise.  Along  many  a  thousand 
miles  of  river  and  tributary  he  built  trading-posts  and 
warehouses.  He  forced  the  white  man's  axe  into  the 
hands  of  the  aborigines,  and  in  every  village  and  be 
tween  the  villages  rose  the  cords  of  four- foot  firewood 
for  his  boilers.  On  an  island  in  Bering  Sea,  where 
the  river  and  the  ocean  meet,  he  established  a  great 
distributing  station,  and,  on  the  North  Pacific  he  put 
big  ocean  steamships;  while  in  his  offices  in  Seattle 
and  San  Francisco  it  took  clerks  by  the  score  to  keep 
the  order  and  system  of  his  business. 

Men  drifted  into  the  land.  Hitherto  famine  had 
driven  them  out,  but  Jacob  Welse  was  there  now,  and 
his  grub-stores;  so  they  wintered  in  the  frost  and 
groped  in  the  frozen  muck  for  gold.  He  encouraged 
them,  grub-staked  them,  carried  them  on  the  books 
o5  the  company.  His  steamers  dragged  them  up  the 
Koyo.  I  in  the  old  days  of  Arctic  City.  Wherever 

59 


A   DAUGHTER   OF  THE   SNOWS 

pay  was  struck  he  built  a  warehouse  and  a  store.  The 
town  followed.  He  explored;  he  speculated;  he  de 
veloped.  Tireless,  indomitable,  with  the  steel-glitter 
in  his  dark  eyes,  he  was  everywhere  at  once,  doing  all 
things.  In  the  opening  up  of  a  new  river  he  was  in 
the  van;  and  at  the  tail-end  also,  hurrying  for 
ward  the  grub.  On  the  Outside  he  fought  trade- 
combinations ;  made  alliances  with  the  corporations 
of  the  earth,  and  forced  discriminating  tariffs  from 
the  great  carriers.  On  the  Inside  he  sold  flour,  and 
blankets,  and  tobacco;  built  saw-mills,  staked  town- 
sites,  and  sought  properties  in  copper,  iron,  and  coal; 
and  that  the  miners  should  be  well-equipped,  ran 
sacked  the  lands  of  the  Arctic  even  as  far  as  Siberia 
for  native-made  snow-shoes,  muclucs,  and  parkas. 

He  bore  the  country  on  his  shoulders;  saw  to  its 
needs ;  did  its  work.  Every  ounce  of  its  dust  passed 
through  his  hands;  every  post-card  and  letter  of  credit. 
He  did  its  banking  and  exchange;  carried  and  dis 
tributed  its  mails.  He  frowned  upon  competition; 
frightened  out  predatory  capital;  bluffed  militant 
syndicates,  and  when  they  would  not,  backed  his  bluff 
and  broke  them.  And  for  all,  yet  found  time  and  place 
to  remember  his  motherless  girl,  and  to  love  her,  and 
to  fit  her  for  the  position  he  had  made. 


CHAPTER  VI 


"  So  I  think,  captain,  you  will  agree  that  we  must 
exaggerate  the  seriousness  of  the  situation."  Jacob 
Welse  helped  his  visitor  into  his  fur  great-coat 
and  went  on.  "  Not  that  it  is  not  serious,  but  that  it 
may  not  become  more  serious.  Both  you  and  I  have 
handled  famines  before.  We  must  frighten  them,  and 
frighten  them  now,  before  it  is  too  late.  Take  five 
thousand  men  out  of  Dawson  and  there  will  be  grub 
to  last.  Let  those  five  thousand  carry  their  tale  of 
famine  to  Dyea  and  Skaguay,  and  they  will  prevent 
five  thousand  more  coming  in  over  the  ice." 

"  Quite  right !  And  you  may  count  on  the  hearty 
co-operation  of  the  police,  Mr.  Welse."  The  speaker, 
a  strong-faced,  grizzled  man,  heavy-set  and  of  mili 
tary  bearing,  pulled  up  his  collar  and  rested  his  hand 
on  the  door-knob.  "  I  see  already,  thanks  to  you,  the 
newcomers  are  beginning  to  sell  their  outfits  and  buy 
dogs.  Lord !  won't  there  be  a  stampede  out  over  the 
ice  as  soon  as  the  river  closes  down!  And  each  that 
sells  a  thousand  pounds  of  grub  and  goes  lessens  the 
proposition  by  one  empty  stomach  and  fills  another 
that  remains.  When  does  the  Laura  start?" 

"  This  morning,  with  three  hundred  grubless  men 
aboard.  Would  that  they  were  three  thousand!" 

"  Amen  to  that !    And  by  the  way,  when  does  your 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE   SNOWS 

"  'Most  any  day,  now."  Jacob  Welse's  eyes  warmed. 
"  And  I  want  you  to  dinner  when  she  does,,  and  bring 
along  a  bunch  of  your  young  bucks  from  the  Bar 
racks.  I  don't  know  all  their  names,  but  just  the  same 
extend  the  invitation  as  though  from  me  personally. 
I  haven't  cultivated  the  social  side  much, — no  time, 
but  see  to  it  that  the  girl  enjoys  herself.  Fresh  from 
the  States  and  London,  and  she's  liable  to  feel  lone 
some.  You  understand." 

Jacob  Welse  closed  the  door,  tilted  his  chair  back, 
and  cocked  his  feet  on  the  guard-rail  of  the  stove.  For 
one  half-minute  a  girlish  vision  wavered  in  the  shim 
mering  air  above  the  stove,  then  merged  into  a  woman 
of  fair  Saxon  type. 

The  door  opened.  "  Mr.  Welse,  Mr.  Foster  sent  me 
to  find  out  if  he  is  to  go  on  filling  signed  warehouse 
orders?" 

"  Certainly,  Mr.  Smith.  But  tell  him  to  scale  them 
down  by  half.  If  a  man  holds  an  order  for  a  thousand 
pounds,  give  him  five  hundred." 

He  lighted  a  cigar  and  tilted  back  again  in  his 
chair. 

"  Captain  McGregor  wants  to  see  you,  sir." 

"  Send  him  in." 

Captain  McGregor  strode  in  and  remained  stand 
ing  before  his  employer.  The  rough  hand  of  the  New 
World  had  been  laid  upon  the  Scotsman  from  his  boy 
hood;  but  sterling  honesty  was  written  in  every  line 
of  his  bitter-seamed  face,  while  a  prognathous  jaw 
proclaimed  to  the  onlooker  that  honesty  was  the  best 
policy, — for  the  onlooker  at  any  rate,  should  he  wish 
to  do  business  with  the  owner  of  the  jaw.  This  warn 
ing  was  backed  up  by  the  nose  ^^ 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

broken,  and  by  a  long  scar  which  ran  up  the  fore 
head  and  disappeared  in  the  gray-grizzled  hair. 

"  We  throw  off  the  lines  in  an  hour,  sir ;  so  I've 
come  for  the  last  word." 

"  Good."  Jacob  Welse  whirled  his  chair  about. 
"  Captain  McGregor." 

"  Ay." 

"  I  had  other  work  cut  out  for  you  this  winter ;  but 
I  have  changed  my  mind  and  chosen  you  to  go  down 
with  the  Laura.  Can  you  guess  why?" 

Captain  McGregor  swayed  his  weight  from  one  leg 
to  the  other,  and  a  shrewd  chuckle  of  a  smile  wrinkle4 
the  corners  of  his  eyes.  "  Going  to  be  trouble,"  he 
grunted. 

"  And  I  couldn't  have  picked  a  better  man.  Mr. 
Bally  will  give  you  detailed  instructions  as  you  go 
aboard.  But  let  me  say  this :  If  we  can't  scare  enough 
men  out  of  the  country,  there'll  be  need  for  every 
pound  of  grub  at  Fort  Yukon.  Understand?" 

"  Ay." 

"  So  no  extravagance.  You  are  taking  three  hun 
dred  men  down  with  you.  The  chances  are  that  twice 
as  many  more  will  go  down  as  soon  as  the  river 
freezes.  You'll  have  a  thousand  to  feed  through  the 
winter.  Put  them  on  rations, — working  rations, — and 
see  that  they  work.  Cordwood,  six  dollars  per  cord, 
and  piled  on  the  bank  where  steamers  can  make  a 
landing.  No  work,  no  rations.  Understand?" 

"  Ay." 

"  A  thousand  men  can  get  ugly,  if  they  are  idle. 
They  can  get  ugly  anyway.  Watch  out  they  don't 
rush  the  caches.  If  they  do, — do  your  duty." 

The  other  nodded  grimly.  His  hands  gripped  un- 
63 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

consciously,  while  the  scar  on  his  forehead  took  on  a 
livid  hue. 

"  There  are  five  steamers  in  the  ice.  Make  them 
safe  against  the  spring  break-up.  But  first  transfer 
all  their  cargoes  to  one  big  cache.  You  can  de 
fend  it  better,  and  make  the  cache  impregnable. 
Send  a  messenger  down  to  Fort  Burr,  asking  Mr. 
Carter  for  three  of  his  men.  He  doesn't  need  them. 
Nothing  much  is  doing  at  Circle  City.  Stop  in  on 
the  way  down  and  take  half  of  Mr.  Burdwell's  men. 
You'll  need  them.  There'll  be  gun-fighters  in  plenty 
to  deal  with.  Be  stiff.  Keep  things  in  check  from 
the  start.  Remember,  the  man  who  shoots  first  comes 
off  with  the  whole  hide.  And  keep  a  constant  eye  on 
the  grub." 

"  And  on  the  forty-five-nineties,"  Captain  Mc 
Gregor  rumbled  back  as  he  passed  out  the  door. 

"  John  Melton — Mr.  Melton,  sir.    Can  he  see  you  ?" 

"See  here,  Welse,  what's  this  mean?"  John  Mel 
ton  followed  wrathfully  on  the  heels  of  the  clerk, 
and  he  almost  walked  over  him  as  he  flourished  a 
paper  before  the  head  of  the  company.  "  Read  that ! 
What's  it  stand  for?" 

Jacob  Welse  glanced  over  it  and  looked  up  coolly. 
"  One  thousand  pounds  of  grub." 

"  That's  what  I  say,  but  that  fellow  you've  got  in  the 
warehouse  says  no, — five  hundred's  all  it's  good  for." 

"  He  spoke  the  truth." 

«  But " 

"  It  stands  for  one  thousand  pounds,  but  in  the  ware 
house  it  is  only  good  for  five  hundred." 

"  That  your  signature  ?"  thrusting  the  receipt  again 
into  the  other's  line  of  vision. 

64 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE    SNOWS 

"  Yes/' 

"  Then  what  are  you  going  to  do  about  it?" 

"  Give  you  five  hundred.  What  are  you  going  to 
do  about  it?" 

a  Refuse  to  take  it." 

"  Very  good.    There  is  no  further  discussion." 

"  Yes  there  is.  I  propose  to  have  no  further  deal 
ings  with  you.  I'm  rich  enough  to  freight  my  own 
stuff  in  over  the  Passes,  and  I  will  next  year.  Our 
business  stops  right  now  and  for  all  time." 

"  I  cannot  object  to  that.  You  have  three  hundred 
thousand  dollars  in  dust  deposited  with  me.  Go  to 
Mr.  Atsheler  and  draw  it  at  once." 

The  man  fumed  impotently  up  and  down.  "  Can't 
I  get  that  other  five  hundred  ?  Great  God,  man !  I've 
paid  for  it !  You  don't  intend  me  to  starve  ?" 

"  Look  here,  Melton."  Jacob  Welse  paused  to  knock 
the  ash  from  his  cigar.  "  At  this  very  moment  what 
are  you  working  for?  What  are  you  trying  to  get?" 

"  A  thousand  pounds  of  grub." 

"  For  your  own  stomach  ?" 

The  Bonanzo  king  nodded  his  head. 

"  Just  so."  The  lines  showed  more  sharply  on  Jacob 
Welse's  forehead.  "  You  are  working  for  your  own 
stomach.  I  am  working  for  the  stomachs  of  twenty 
thousand." 

"  But  you  filled  Tim  McReady's  thousand  pounds 
yesterday  all  right." 

"  The  scale-down  did  not  go  into  effect  until  to 
day."  ; 

"  But  why  am  I  the  one  to  get  it  in  the  neck  hard?" 

"Why  didn't  you  come  yesterday,  and  Tim  Mc- 
Ready  to-day?" 

5  65 


A   DAUGHTER   OF  THE   SNOWS 

Melton's  face  went  blank,  and  Jacob  Welse  answered 
his  own  question  with  shrugging  shoulders. 

"  That's  the  way  it  stands,  Melton.  No  favoritism. 
If  you  hold  me  responsible  for  Tim  McReady,  I  shall 
hold  you  responsible  for  not  coming  yesterday.  Bet 
ter  we  both  throw  it  upon  Providence.  You  went 
through  the  Forty  Mile  Famine.  You  are  a  white 
man.  A  Bonanzo  property,  or  a  block  of  Bonanzo 
properties,  does  not  entitle  you  to  a  pound  more  than 
the  oldest  penniless  '  sour-dough*  or  the  newest  baby 
born.  Trust  me.  As  long  as  I  have  a  pound  of 
grub  you  shall  not  starve.  Stiffen  up.  Shake  hands. 
Get  a  smile  on  your  face  and  make  the  best  of  it." 

Still  savage  of  spirit,  though  rapidly  toning  down, 
the  king  shook  hands  and  flung  out  of  the  room.  Be 
fore  the  door  could  close  on  his  heels,  a  loose- jointed 
Yankee  shambled  in,  thrust  a  moccasined  foot  to  the 
side  and  hooked  a  chair  under  him,  and  sat  down. 

"  Say,"  he  opened  up,  confidentially,  "  people's 
gittin'  scairt  over  the  grub  proposition,  I  guess  some." 

"Hello,  Dave.    That  you?" 

"  S'pose  so.  But  ez  I  was  sayin',  there'll  be  a  lively 
stampede  fer  the  Outside  soon  as  the  river  freezes." 

"Think  so?" 

"  Unh  huh." 

"  Then  I'm  glad  to  hear  it.  It's  what  the  country 
needs.  Going  to  join  them?" 

"Not  in  a  thousand  years."  Dave  Harney  threw 
his  head  back  with  smug  complacency.  "  Freighted 
my  truck  up  to  the  mine  yesterday.  Wa'n't  a  bit  too 
soon  about  it,  either.  But  say  .  .  .  Suthin'  happened 
to  the  sugar.  Had  it  all  on  the  last  sled,  an'  jest  where 
the  trail  turns  off  the  Klondike  into  Bonanzo,  what 

66 


A   DAUGHTER   OF  THE   SNOWS 

does  that  sled  do  but  break  through  the  ice!  I  never 
seen  the  beat  of  it — the  last  sled  of  all,  an'  all  the 
sugar!  So  I  jest  thought  I'd  drop  in  to-day  an'  git  a 
hundred  pounds  or  so.  White  or  brown,  I  ain't  per- 
tickler." 

Jacob  Welse  shook  his  head  and  smiled,  but  Harney 
hitched  his  chair  closer. 

"  The  clerk  of  yourn  said  he  didn't  know,  an'  ez 
there  wa'n't  no  call  to  pester  him,  I  said  I'd  jest  drop 
round  an'  see  you.  I  don't  care  what  it's  wuth.  Make 
it  a  hundred  even ;  that'll  do  me  handy. 

"  Say,"  he  went  on  easily,  noting  the  decidedly  nega 
tive  poise  of  the  other's  head.  "  I've  got  a  tolerable 
sweet  tooth,  I  have.  Recollect  the  taffy  I  made  over 
on  Preacher  Creek  that  time?  I  declare!  how  time 
does  fly!  That  was  all  of  six  years  ago  if  it's  a  day. 
More'n  that,  surely.  Seven,  by  the  Jimcracky!  But 
ez  I  was  savin',  I'd  ruther  do  without  my  plug  of 
'  Star '  than  sugar.  An'  about  that  sugar  ?  Got  my 
dogs  outside.  Better  go  round  to  the  warehouse  an* 
git  it,  eh?  Pretty  good  idea." 

But  he  saw  the  "No"  shaping  on  Jacob  Welse's 
lips,  and  hurried  on  before  it  could  be  uttered. 

"  Now,  I  don't  want  to  hog  it.  Wouldn't  do  that 
fer  the  world.  So  if  yer  short,  I  can  put  up  with 

seventy-five "  (he  studied  the  other's  face),  "an' 

I  might  do  with  fifty.  I  'predate  your  position,  an' 
I  ain't  low-down  critter  enough  to  pester " 

"What's  the  good  of  spilling  words,  Dave?  We 
haven't  a  pound  of  sugar  to  spare " 

"  Ez  I  was  sayin',  I  ain't  no  hog ;  an'  seein'  's  it's 
you,  Welse,  I'll  make  to  scrimp  along  on  twenty- 
five " 

67 


A   DAUGHTER   OF  THE   SNOWS 

"  Not  an  ounce !" 

"Not  the  least  leetle  mite?  Well,  well,  don't  git 
het  up.  We'll  jest  fergit  I  ast  you  fer  any,  an'  I'll 
drop  round  some  likelier  time.  So  long.  Say !"  He 
threw  his  jaw  to  one  side  and  seemed  to  stiffen  the 
muscles  of  his  ear  as  he  listened  intently.  "  That's 
the  Laura's  whistle.  She's  startin'  soon.  Coin'  to  see 
her  off?  Come  along." 

Jacob  Welse  pulled  on  his  bearskin  coat  and  mittens, 
and  they  passed  through  the  outer  offices  into  the  main 
store.  So  large  was  it,  that  the  tenscore  purchasers 
before  the  counters  made  no  apparent  crowd.  Many 
were  serious-faced,  and  more  than  one  looked  darkly 
at  the  head  of  the  company  as  he  passed.  The 
clerks  were  selling  everything  except  grub,  and  it  was 
grub  that  was  in  demand.  "  Holding  it  for  a  rise. 
Famine  prices,"  a  red-whiskered  miner  sneered. 
Jacob  Welse  heard  it,  but  took  no  notice.  He  ex 
pected  to  hear  it  many  times  and  more  unpleasantly 
ere  the  scare  was  over. 

On  the  sidewalk  he  stopped  to  glance  over  the  pub 
lic  bulletins  posted  against  the  side  of  the  building. 
Dogs  lost,  found,  and  for  sale  occupied  some  space, 
but  the  rest  was  devoted  to  notices  of  sales  of  outfits. 
The  timid  were  already  growing  frightened.  Outfits 
of  five  hundred  pounds  were  offering  at  a  dollar  a 
pound,  without  flour;  others,  with  flour,  at  a  dollar 
and  a  half.  Jacob  Welse  saw  Melton  talking  with  an 
anxious-faced  newcomer,  and  the  satisfaction  dis 
played  by  the  Bonanzo  king  told  that  he  had  suc 
ceeded  in  filling  his  winter's  cache. 

"  Why  don't  you  smell  out  the  sugar,  Dave  ?"  Jacob 
Welse  asked,  pointing  to  the  bulletins. 

68 

I 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE   SNOWS 

Dave  Harney  looked  his  reproach.  "  Mebbe  you 
think  I  ain't  ben  smellin'.  I've  clean  wore  my  dogs 
out  chasm'  round  from  Klondike  City  to  the  Hos 
pital.  Can't  git  yer  fingers  on  it  fer  love  or  money." 

They  walked  down  the  block-long  sidewalk,  past 
the  warehouse  doors  and  the  long  teams  of  waiting 
huskies  curled  up  in  wolfish  comfort  in  the  snow.  It 
was  for  this  snow,  the  first  permanent  one  of  the  fall, 
that  the  miners  up-creek  had  waited  to  begin  their 
freighting. 

"Curious,  ain't  it?"  Dave  hazarded  suggestively, 
as  they  crossed  the  main  street  to  the  river  bank. 
"  Mighty  curious — me  ownin'  two  five-hundred-foot 
Eldorado  claims  an'  a  fraction,  wuth  five  millions  if 
I'm  wuth  a  cent,  an'  no  sweetenin'  fer  my  coffee  or. 
mush!  Why,  gosh-dang-it !  this  country  kin  go  to 
blazes!  I'll  sell  out!  I'll  quit  it  cold!  I'll— I'll—go 
back  to  the  States !" 

"  Oh,  no,  you  won't,"  Jacob  Welse  answered.  "  I've 
heard  you  talk  before.  You  put  in  a  year  up  Stuart 
River  on  straight  meat,  if  I  haven't  forgotten.  And 
you  ate  salmon-belly  and  dogs  up  the  Tanana,  to  say 
nothing  of  going  through  two  famines;  and  you 
haven't  turned  your  back  on  the  country  yet.  And  you 
never  will.  And  you'll  die  here  as  sure  as  that's  the 
Laura's  spring  being  hauled  aboard.  And  I  look  for 
ward  confidently  to  the  day  when  I  shall  ship  you 
out  in  a  lead-lined  box  and  burden  the  San  Francisco 
end  with  the  trouble  of  winding  up  your  estate.  You 
are  a  fixture,  and  you  know  it." 

As  he  talked  he  constantly  acknowledged  greetings 
from  the  passers-by.  Those  who  knew  him  were 
mainly  old-timers  and  he  knew  them  all  by  name, 

69 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

though  there  was  scarcely  a  newcomer  to  whom  his 
face  was  not  familiar. 

"  I'll  jest  bet  I'll  be  in  Paris  in  1900,"  the  Eldorado 
king  protested  feebly. 

But  Jacob  Welse  did  not  hear.  There  was  a  jan 
gling  of  gongs  as  McGregor  saluted  him  from  the  pilot 
house  and  the  Laura  slipped  out  from  the  bank.  The 
men  on  the  shore  filled  the  air  with  good-luck  fare 
wells  and  last  advice,  but  the  three  hundred  grubless 
ones,  turning  their  backs  on  the  golden  dream,  were 
moody  and  dispirited,  and  made  small  response.  The 
Laura  backed  out  through  a  channel  cut  in  the  shore- 
ice,  swung  about  in  the  current,  and  with  a  final  blast 
put  on  full  steam  ahead. 

The  crowd  thinned  away  and  went  about  its  busi 
ness,  leaving  Jacob  Welse  the  centre  of  a  group  of 
a  dozen  or  so.  The  talk  was  of  the  famine,  but  it 
was  the  talk  of  men.  Even  Dave  Harney  forgot  to 
curse  the  country  for  its  sugar  shortage,  and  waxed 
facetious  over  the  newcomers, — chechaquos,  he  called 
them,  having  recourse  to  the  Siwash  tongue.  In  the 
midst  of  his  remarks  his  quick  eye  lighted  on  a  black 
speck  floating  down  with  the  mush-ice  of  the  river. 
"Jest  look  at  that!"  he  cried.  "A  Peterborough 
canoe  runnin'  the  ice!" 

Twisting  and  turning,  now  paddling,  now  shoving 
clear  of  the  floating  cakes,  the  two  men  in  the  canoe 
worked  in  to  the  rim-ice,  along  the  edge  of  which 
they  drifted,  waiting  for  an  opening.  Opposite  the 
channel  cut  out  by  the  steamer,  they  drove  their  pad 
dles  deep  and  darted  into  the  calm  dead  water.  The 
waiting  group  received  them  with  open  arms,  helping 
them  up  the  bank  and  carrying  their  shell  after  them. 

70 


A   DAUGHTER   OF  THE   SNOWS 

In  its  bottom  were  two  leather  mail-pouches,  a  couple 
of  blankets,  coffee-pot  and  frying-pan,  and  a  scant 
grub-sack.  As  for  the  men,  so  frosted  were  they,  and 
so  numb  with  the  cold,  that  they  could  hardly  stand. 
Dave  Harney  proposed  whiskey,  and  was  for  haling 
them  away  at  once;  but  one  delayed  long  enough  to 
shake  stiff  hands  with  Jacob  Welse. 

"  She's  coming,"  he  announced.  "  Passed  her  boat 
an  hour  back.  It  ought  to  be  round  the  bend  any 
minute.  I've  got  despatches  for  you,  but  I'll  see 
you  later.  Got  to  get  something  into  me  first." 
Turning  to  go  with  Harney,  he  stopped  suddenly  and 
pointed  up  stream.  "  There  she  is  now.  Just  coming 
out  past  the  bluff." 

"  Run  along,  boys,  an'  git  yer  whiskey,"  Harney 
admonished  him  and  his  mate.  "  Tell  'm  it's  on  me, 
double  dose,  an'  jest  excuse  me  not  drinkin'  with  you, 
fer  I'm  goin'  to  stay." 

The  Klondike  was  throwing  a  thick  flow  of  ice, 
partly  mush  and  partly  solid,  and  swept  the  boat  out 
towards  the  middle  of  the  Yukon.  They  could  see 
the  struggle  plainly  from  the  bank, — four  men  stand* 
ing  up  and  poling  a  way  through  the  jarring  cakes. 
A  Yukon  stove  aboard  was  sending  up  a  trailing  pillar 
of  blue  smoke,  and,  as  the  boat  drew  closer,  they  could 
see  a  woman  in  the  stern  working  the  long  steering- 
sweep.  At  sight  of  this  there  was  a  snap  and  sparkle 
in  Jacob  Welse's  eyes.  It  was  the  first  omen,  and  it 
was  good,  he  thought.  She  was  still  a  Welse ;  a  strug- 
gler  and  a  fighter.  The  years  of  her  culture  had  not 
weakened  her.  Though  tasting  of  the  fruits  of  the 
first  remove  from  the  soil,  she  was  not  afraid  of  the 
soil;  she  could  return  to  it  gleefully  and  naturally. 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

So  he  mused  till  the  boat  drove  in,  ice-rimed  and 
battered,  against  the  edge  of  the  rim-ice.  The  one 
white  man  aboard  sprang  out,  painter  in  hand,  to  slow 
it  down  and  work  into  the  channel.  But  the  rim-ice 
was  formed  of  the  night,  and  the  front  of  it  shelved 
off  with  him  into  the  current.  The  nose  of  the  boat 
sheered  out  under  the  pressure  of  a  heavy  cake,  so 
that  he  came  up  at  the  stern.  The  woman's  arm 
flashed  over  the  side  to  his  collar,  and  at  the  same 
instant,  sharp  and  authoritative,  her  voice  rang  out 
to  the  Indian  oarsmen  to  back  water.  Still  holding  the 
man's  head  above  water,  she  threw  her  body  against 
the  sweep  and  guided  the  boat  stern-foremost  into  the 
opening.  A  few  more  strokes  and  it  grounded  at  the 
foot  of  the  bank.  She  passed  the  collar  of  the  chat 
tering  man  to  Dave  Harney,  who  dragged  him  out  and 
started  him  off  on  the  trail  of  the  mail-carriers. 

Frona  stood  up,  her  cheeks  glowing  from  the  quick 
work.  Jacob  Welse  hesitated.  Though  he  stood 
within  reach  of  the  gunwale,  a  gulf  of  three  years 
was  between.  The  womanhood  of  twenty,  added  unto 
the  girl  of  seventeen,  made  a  sum  more  prodigious 
than  he  had  imagined.  He  did  not  know  whether 
to  bear-hug  the  radiant  young  creature  or  to  take  her 
hand  and  help  her  ashore.  But  there  was  no  apparent 
hitch,  for  she  leaped  beside  him  and  was  into  his 
arms.  Those  above  looked  away  to  a  man  till  the  two 
came  up  the  bank  hand  in  hand. 

"  Gentlemen,  my  daughter."  There  was  a  great 
pride  in  his  face. 

Frona  embraced  them  all  with  a  comrade  smile,  and 
each  man  felt  that  for  an  instant  her  eyes  had  looked 
straight  into  his. 

72 


CHAPTER  VII 


THAT  Vance  Corliss  wanted  to  see  more  of  the  girl 
he  had  divided  blankets  with,  goes  with  the  saying. 
He  had  not  been  wise  enough  to  lug  a  camera  into 
the  country,  but  none  the  less,  by  a  yet  subtler 
process,  a  sun-picture  had  been  recorded  somewhere 
on  his  cerebral  tissues.  In  the  flash  of  an  instant 
it  had  been  done.  A  wave  message  of  light  and 
color,  a  molecular  agitation  and  integration,  a  cer 
tain  minute  though  definite  corrugation  in  a  brain 
recess, — and  there  it  was,  a  picture  complete!  The 
blazing  sunlight  on  the  beetling  black;  a  slender 
gray  form,  radiant,  starting  forward  to  the  vision 
from  the  marge  where  light  and  darkness  met ;  a  fresh 
young  morning  smile  wreathed  in  a  flame  of  burning 
gold. 

It  was  a  picture  he  looked  at  often,  and  the  more 
he  looked  the  greater  was  his  desire  to  see  Frona 
Welse  again.  This  event  he  anticipated  with  a  thrill, 
with  the  exultancy  over  change  which  is  common  of 
all  life.  She  was  something  new,  a  fresh  type,  a 
woman  unrelated  to  all  women  he  had  met.  Out  of 
the  fascinating  unknown  a  pair  of  hazel  eyes  smiled 
into  his,  and  a  hand,  soft  of  touch  and  strong  of  grip, 
beckoned  him.  And  there  was  an  allurement  about  it 
which  was  as  the  allurement  of  sin. 

Not  that  Vance  Corliss  was  anybody's  fool,  nor  that 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

his  had  been  an  anchorite's  existence ;  but  that  his  up 
bringing,  rather,  had  given  his  life  a  certain  puritanical 
bent.  Awakening  intelligence  and  broader  knowledge 
had  weakened  the  early  influence  of  an  austere  mother, 
but  had  not  wholly  eradicated  it.  It  was  there,  deep 
down,  very  shadowy,  but  still  a  part  of  him.  He  could 
not  get  away  from  it.  It  distorted,  ever  so  slightly,  his 
concepts  of  things.  It  gave  a  squint  to  his  percep 
tions,  and  very  often,  when  the  sex  feminine  was  con 
cerned,  determined  his  classifications.  He  prided 
himself  on  his  largeness  when  he  granted  that  there 
were  three  kinds  of  women.  His  mother  had  only 
admitted  two.  But  he  had  outgrown  her.  It  was 
incontestable  that  there  were  three  kinds, — the  good, 
the  bad,  and  the  partly  good  and  partly  bad.  That 
the  last  usually  went  bad,  he  believed  firmly.  In  its 
very  nature  such  a  condition  could  not  be  permanent. 
It  was  the  intermediary  stage,  marking  the  passage 
from  high  to  low,  from  best  to  worst. 

All  of  which  might  have  been  true,  even  as  he  saw 
it ;  but  with  definitions  for  premises,  conclusions  can 
not  fail  to  be  dogmatic.  What  was  good  and  bad? 
There  it  was.  That  was  where  his  mother  whispered 
with  dead  lips  to  him.  Nor  alone  his  mother,  but 
divers  conventional  generations,  even  back  to  the 
sturdy  ancestor  who  first  uplifted  from  the  soil  and 
looked  down.  For  Vance  Corliss  was  many  times 
removed  from  the  red  earth,  and,  though  he  did  not 
know  it,  there  was  a  clamor  within  him  for  a  return 
lest  he  perish. 

Not  that  he  pigeon-holed  Frona  according  to  his 
inherited  definitions.  He  refused  to  classify  her  at 
all.  He  did  not  dare.  He  preferred  to  pass  judgment 

74 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

later,  when  he  had  gathered  more  data.  And  there 
was  the  allurement,  the  gathering  of  the  data;  the 
great  critical  point  where  purity  reaches  dreamy 
hands  towards  pitch  and  refuses  to  call  it  pitch — • 
till  defiled.  No;  Vance  Corliss  was  not  a  cad.  And 
since  purity  is  merely  a  relative  term,  he  was  not  pure. 
That  there  was  no  pitch  under  his  nails  was  not  be 
cause  he  had  manicured  diligently,  but  because  it  had 
not  been  his  luck  to  run  across  any  pitch.  He  was 
not  good  because  he  chose  to  be,  because  evil  was 
repellant;  but  because  he  had  not  had  opportunity  to 
become  evil.  But  from  this,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is 
not  to  be  argued  that  he  would  have  gone  bad  had  he 
had  a  chance. 

He  was  a  product  of  the  sheltered  life.  All  his 
days  had  been  lived  in  a  sanitary  dwelling;  the 
plumbing  was  excellent.  The  air  he  had  breathed  had 
been  mostly_£ZPne  artificially  manufactured.  He  had 
been  sun-bathed  in  balmy  weather,  and  brought  in  out 
of  the  wet  when  it  rained.  And  when  he  reached  the 
age  of  choice  he  had  been  too  fully  occupied  to  deviate 
from  the  straight  path,  along  which  his  mother  had 
taught  him  to  creep  and  toddle,  and  along  which  he 
now  proceeded  to  walk  upright,  without  thought  of 
what  lay  on  either  side. 

Vitality  cannot  be  used  over  again.  If  it  be  ex 
pended  on  one  thing,  there  is  none  left  for  the  other 
thing.  And  so  with  Vance  Corliss.  Scholarly  lucu 
brations  and  healthy  exercises  during  his  college  days 
had  consumed  all  the  energy  his  normal  digestion 
extracted  from  a  wholesome  omnivorous  diet.  When 
he  did  discover  a  bit  of  surplus  energy,  he  worked  it 
off  in  the  society  of  his  mother  and  of  the  conven- 

75 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWb 


tional  minds  and  prim  teas  she  surrounded  herself 
with.  Result:  A  very  nice  young  man,  of  whom  no 
maid's  mother  need  ever  be  in  trepidation;  a  very 
strong  young  man,  whose  substance  had  not  been 
wasted  in  riotous  living;  a  very  learned  young  man, 
with  a  Freiberg  mining  engineer's  diploma  and  a 
B.A.  sheepskin  from  Yale;  and,  lastly,  a  very  self- 
centred,  self-possessed  young  man. 

Now  his  greatest  virtue  lay  in  this :  he  had  not  be 
come  hardened  in  the  mould  baked  by  his  several  for 
bears  and  into  which  he  had  been  pressed  by  his 
mother's  hands.  Some  atavism  had  been  at  work  in 
the  making  of  him,  and  he  had  reverted  to  that  ances 
tor  who  sturdily  uplifted.  But  so  far  this  portion  of 
his  heritage  had  lain  dormant.  He  had  simply  remained 
adjusted  to  a  stable  environment.  There  had  been  no 
call  upon  the  adaptability  which  was  his.  But  when 
soever  the  call  came,  being  so  constituted,  it  was  mani 
fest  that  he  should  adapt,  should  adjust  himself  to  the 
unwonted  pressure  of  new  conditions.  The  maxim 
of  the  rolling  stone  may  be  all  true ;  but  notwithstand 
ing,  in  the  scheme  of  life,  the  inability  to  become  fixed 
is  an  excellence  par  excellence.  Though  he  did  not 
know  it,  this  inability  was  Vance  Corliss's  most  splen 
did  possession. 

But  to  return.  He  looked  forward  with  great  sober 
glee  to  meeting  Frona  Welse,  and  in  the  meanwhile 
consulted  often  the  sun-picture  he  carried  of  her. 
Though  he  went  over  the  Pass  and  down  the  lakes 
and  river  with  a  push  of  money  behind  him  (London 
syndicates  are  never  niggardly  in  such  matters ); 
Frona  beat  him  into  Dawson  by  a  fortnight.  While 
on  his  part  money  in  the  end  overcame  obstacles,  on 

76 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

hers  the  name  of  Welse  was  a  talisman  greater  than 
treasure.  After  his  arrival,  a  couple  of  weeks  were 
consumed  in  buying  a  cabin,  presenting  his  letters  of 
introduction,  and  settling  down.  But  all  things  come 
in  the  fulness  of  time,  and  so,  one  night  after  the 
river  closed,  he  pointed  his  moccasins  in  the  direction 
of  Jacob  Welse's  house.  Mrs.  Schoville,  the  Gold  Com 
missioner's  wife,  gave  him  the  honor  of  her  company. 

Corliss  wanted  to  rub  his  eyes.  Steam-heating  ap* 
paratus  in  the  Klondike !  But  the  next  instant  he  had 
passed  out  of  the  hall  through  the  heavy  portieres  and 
stood  inside  the  drawing-room.  And  it  was  a  draw 
ing-room.  His  moose-hide  moccasins  sank  luxuriantly 
into  the  deep  carpet,  and  his  eyes  were  caught  by  a 
Turner  sunrise  on  the  opposite  wall.  And  there  were 
other  paintings  and  things  in  bronze.  Two  Dutch  fire 
places  were  roaring  full  with  huge  back-logs  of  spruce. 
There  was  a  piano;  and  somebody  was  singing. 
Frona  sprang  from  the  stool  and  came  forward, 
greeting  him  with  both  hands.  He  had  thought  his 
sun-picture  perfect,  but  this  fire-picture,  this  young 
creature  with  the  flush  and  warmth  of  ringing  life, 
quite  eclipsed  it.  It  was  a  whirling  moment,  as  he 
held  her  two  hands  in  his,  one  of  those  moments  when 
an  incomprehensible  orgasm  quickens  the  blood  and 
dizzies  the  brain.  Though  the  first  syllables  came  to 
him  faintly,  Mrs.  Schoville's  voice  brought  him  back 
to  himself. 

"  Oh !"  she  cried.     "  You  know  him !" 
And  Frona  answered,  "  Yes,  we  met  on  the  Dyea 
Trail;    and  those  who  meet  on  the  Dyea  Trail  can 
never  forget." 

77 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

"  How  romantic !" 

The  Gold  Commissioner's  wife  clapped  her  hands. 
Though  fat  and  forty,  and  phlegmatic  of  tempera 
ment,  between  exclamations  and  hand-clappings  her 
waking  existence  was  mostly  explosive.  Her  husband 
secretly  averred  that  did  God  Himself  deign  to  meet 
her  face  to  face,  she  would  smite  together  her  chubby 
hands  and  cry  out,  "  How  romantic !" 

"  How  did  it  happen  ?"  she  continued.  "  He  didn't 
rescue  you  over  a  cliff,  or  that  sort  of  thing,  did  he? 
Do  say  that  he  did !  And  you  never  said  a  word  about 
it,  Mr.  Corliss.  Do  tell  me.  I'm  just  dying  to  know !" 

"  Oh,  nothing  like  that,"  he  hastened  to  answer. 
"  Nothing  much.  I,  that  is  we " 

He  felt  a  sinking  as  Frona  interrupted.  There  was 
no  telling  what  this  remarkable  girl  might  say. 

"  He  gave  me  of  his  hospitality,  that  was  all,"  she 
said.  "  And  I  can  vouch  for  his  fried  potatoes ;  while 
for  his  coffee,  it  is  excellent — when  one  is  very 
hungry." 

"  Ingrate !"  he  managed  to  articulate,  and  thereby  to 
gain  a  smile,  ere  he  was  introduced  to  a  cleanly  built 
lieutenant  of  the  Mounted  Police,  who  stood  by  the 
fireplace  discussing  the  grub  proposition  with  a  dapper 
little  man  very  much  out  of  place  in  a  white  shirt  and 
stiff  collar. 

Thanks  to  the  particular  niche  in  society  into  which 
he  happened  to  be  born,  Corliss  drifted  about  easily 
from  group  to  group,  and  was  much  envied  therefore 
by  Del  Bishop,  who  sat  stiffly  in  the  first  chair  he  had 
dropped  into,  and  who  was  waiting  patiently  for  the 
first  person  to  take  leave  that  he  might  know  how  to 
compass  the  manoeuvre.  In  his  mind's  eye  he  had 

78 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

figured  most  of  it  out,  knew  just  how  many  steps  re 
quired  to  carry  him  to  the  door,  was  certain  he  would 
have  to  say  good-by  to  Frona,  but  did  not  know 
whether  or  not  he  was  supposed  to  shake  hands  all 
around.  He  had  just  dropped  in  to  see  Frona  and  say 
"  Howdee,"  as  he  expressed  it,  and  had  unwittingly 
found  himself  in  company. 

Corliss,  having  terminated  a  buzz  with  a  Miss  Mor 
timer  on  the  decadence  of  the  French  symbolists, 
encountered  Del  Bishop.  But  the  pocket-miner  re 
membered  him  at  once  from  the  one  glimpse  he 
had  caught  of  Corliss  standing  by  his  tent-door  in 
Happy  Camp.  Was  almighty  obliged  to  him  for  his 
night's  hospitality  to  Miss  Frona,  seein'  as  he'd  ben 
side-tracked  down  the  line;  that  any  kindness  to  her 
was  a  kindness  to  him;  and  that  he'd  remember  it, 
by  God,  as  long  as  he  had  a  corner  of  a  blanket  to 
pull  over  him.  Hoped  it  hadn't  put  him  out.  Miss 
Frona'd  said  that  bedding  was  scarce,  but  it  wasn't  a 
cold  night  (more  blowy  than  crisp),  so  he  reckoned 
there  couldn't  'a'  ben  much  shiverin'.  All  of  which 
vStruck  Corliss  as  perilous,  and  he  broke  away  at  the 
first  opportunity,  leaving  the  pocket-miner  yearning 
for  the  door. 

But  Dave  Harney,  who  had  not  come  by  mistake, 
avoided  gluing  himself  to  the  first  chair.  Being  an 
Eldorado  king,  he  had  felt  it  incumbent  to  assume  the 
position  in  society  to  which  his  numerous  millions  en 
titled  him;  and  though  unused  all  his  days  to  social 
amenities  other  than  the  out-hanging  latch-string  and 
the  general  pot,  he  had  succeeded  to  his  own  satis 
faction  as  a  knight  of  the  carpet.  Quick  to  take  a 
cue,  he  circulated  with  an  aplomb  which  his  striking 

79 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

garments  and  long  shambling  gait  only  heightened, 
and  talked  choppy  and  disconnected  fragments  with 
whomsoever  he  ran  up  against.  The  Miss  Mortimer, 
who  spoke  Parisian  French,  took  him  aback  with  her 
symbolists;  but  he  evened  matters  up  with  a  goodly 
measure  of  the  bastard  lingo  of  the  Canadian  voya- 
geurs,  and  left  her  gasping  and  meditating  over  a 
proposition  to  sell  him  twenty-five  pounds  of  sugar, 
white  or  brown.  But  she  was  not  unduly  favored, 
for  with  everybody  he  adroitly  turned  the  conversa 
tion  to  grub,  and  then  led  up  to  the  eternal  proposi 
tion.  "  Sugar  or  bust,"  he  would  conclude  gayly  each 
time  and  wander  on  to  the  next. 

But  he  put  the  capstone  on  his  social  success  by 
asking  Frona  to  sing  the  touching  ditty,  "  I  Left  My 
Happy  Home  for  You."  This  was  something  beyond 
her,  though  she  had  him  hum  over  the  opening  bars 
so  that  she  could  furnish  the  accompaniment.  His 
voice  was  more  strenuous  than  sweet,  and  Del  Bishop, 
discovering  himself  at  last,  joined  in  raucously  on 
the  choruses.  This  made  him  feel  so  much  better 
that  he  disconnected  himself  from  the  chair,  and  when 
he  finally  got  home  he  kicked  up  his  sleepy  tent-mate 
to  tell  him  about  the  high  time  he'd  had  over  at  the 
Welse's.  Mrs.  Schoville  tittered  and  thought  it  all  so 
unique,  and  she  thought  it  so  unique  several  times 
more  when  the  lieutenant  of  Mounted  Police  and  a 
couple  of  compatriots  roared  "  Rule  Britannia"  and 
"  God  Save  the  Queen,"  and  the  Americans  responded 
with  "  My  Country,  Tis  of  Thee"  and  "  John  Brown." 
Then  big  Alec  Beaubien,  the  Circle  City  king,  de 
manded  the  "  Marseillaise,"  and  the  company  broke  up 
chanting  "  Die  Wacht  am  Rhein"  to  the  frosty  night. 

80 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

"  Don't  come  on  these  nights,"  Frona  whispered  to 
Corliss  at  parting.  "  We  haven't  spoken  three  words, 
and  I  know  we  shall  be  good  friends.  Did  Dave  Har- 
ney  succeed  in  getting  any  sugar  out  of  you  ?" 

They  mingled  their  laughter,  and  Corliss  went  home 
under  the  aurora  borealis,  striving  to  reduce  his  im 
pressions  to  some  kind  of  order. 


6  81 


CHAPTER  VIII 


"  AND  why  should  I  not  be  proud  of  my  race  ?" 

Frona's  cheeks  were  flushed  and  her  eyes  sparkling. 
They  had  both  been  harking  back  to  childhood,  and 
she  had  been  telling  Corliss  of  her  mother,  whom  she 
faintly  remembered.  Fair  and  flaxen-haired,  typically 
Saxon,  was  the  likeness  she  had  drawn,  filled  out 
largely  with  knowledge  gained  from  her  father  and 
from  old  Andy  of  the  Dyea  Post.  The  discussion  had 
then  turned  upon  the  race  in  general,  and  Frona  had 
said  things  in  the  heat  of  enthusiasm  which  affected 
the  more  conservative  mind  of  Corliss  as  dangerous 
and  not  solidly  based  on  fact.  He  deemed  himself  too 
large  for  race  egotism  and  insular  prejudice,  and  had 
seen  fit  to  laugh  at  her  immature  convictions. 

"  It's  a  common  characteristic  of  all  peoples,"  he 
proceeded,  "  to  consider  themselves  superior  races, — 
a  naive,  natural  egoism,  very  healthy  and  very  good, 
but  none  the  less  manifestly  untrue.  The  Jews  con 
ceived  themselves  to  be  God's  chosen  people,  and  they 
still  so  conceive  themselves " 

"  And  because  of  it  they  have  left  a  deep  mark  down 
the  page  of  history,"  she  interrupted. 

"  But  time  has   not  proved   the  stability  of  their 
conceptions.    And  you  must  also  view  the  other  side.  ' 
A  superior  people  must  look  upon  all  others  as  in 
ferior  peoples.     This   comes   home  to  you.     To  be 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE   SNOWS 

a  Roman  were  greater  than  to  be  a  king,  and  when 
the  Romans  rubbed  against  your  savage  ancestors  in 
the  German  forests,  they  elevated  their  brows  and 
said,  '  An  inferior  people,  barbarians.' '' 

"  But  we  are  here,  now.  We  are,  and  the  Romans 
are  not.  The  test  is  time.  So  far  we  have  stood  the 
test;  the  signs  are  favorable  that  we  shall  continue  to 
stand  it.  We  are  the  best  fitted !" 

"  Egotism." 

"  But  wait.    Put  it  to  the  test." 

As  she  spoke  her  hand  flew  out  impulsively  to  his. 
At  the  touch  his  heart  pulsed  upward,  there  was  a  rush 
of  blood  and  a  tightening  across  the  temples.  Ridicu 
lous,  but  delightful,  he  thought.  At  this  rate  he  could 
argue  with  her  the  night  through. 

"The  test,"  she  repeated,  withdrawing  her  hand 
without  embarrassment.  "  We  are  a  race  of  doers  and 
fighters,  of  globe-encirclers  and  zone-conquerors.  We 
toil  and  struggle,  and  stand  by  the  toil  and  struggle 
no  matter  how  hopeless  it  may  be.  While  we  are  per 
sistent  and  resistant,  we  are  so  made  that  we  fit  our 
selves  to  the  most  diverse  conditions.  Will  the  Indian, 
the  Negro,  or  the  Mongol  ever  conquer  the  Teuton? 
Surely  not !  The  Indian  has  persistence  without  varia 
bility  ;  if  he  does  not  modify  he  dies,  if  he  does  try  to 
modify  he  dies  anyway.  The  Negro  has  adaptability, 
but  he  is  servile  and  must  be  led.  As  for  the  Chinese, 
they  are  permanent.  All  that  the  other  races  are  not, 
the  Anglo-Saxon,  or  Teuton  if  you  please,  is.  All  that 
the  other  races  have  not,  the  Teuton  has.  What  race 
is  to  rise  up  and  overwhelm  us?" 

"Ah,  you  forget  the  Slav,"  Corliss  suggested 
slyly. 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

"The  Slav!"  Her  face  fell.  "  True,  the  Slav !  The 
only  stripling  in  this  world  of  young  men  and  gray- 
beards  !  But  he  is  still  in  the  future,  and  in  the  future 
the  decision  rests.  In  the  mean  time  we  prepare.  It 
may  be  we  shall  have  such  a  start  that  we  shall  prevent 
him  growing.  You  know,  because  he  was  better  skilled 
in  chemistry,  knew  how-to  manufacture  gunpowder, 
that  the  Spaniard  destroyed  the  Aztec.  May  not  we, 
who  are  possessing  ourselves  of  the  world  and  its 
resources,  and  gathering  to  ourselves  all  its  knowl 
edge,  may  not  we  nip  the  Slav  ere  he  grows  a  thatch 
to  his  lip?" 

Vance  Corliss  shook  his  head  non-committally,  and 
laughed. 

"  Oh !  I  know  I  become  absurd  and  grow  over- 
warm  !"  she  exclaimed.  "  But  after  all,  one  reason 
that  we  are  the  salt  of  the  earth  is  because  we  have 
the  courage  to  say  so." 

"  And  I  am  sure  your  warmth  spreads,"  he  re 
sponded.  "  See,  I'm  beginning  to  glow  myself.  We 
are  not  God's,  but  Nature's  chosen  people,  we  Angles, 
and  Saxons,  and  Normans,  and  Vikings,  and  the  earth 
is  our  heritage.  Let  us  arise  and  go  forth !" 

"  Now  you  are  laughing  at  me,  and,  besides,  we 
have  already  gone  forth.  Why  have  you  fared  into 
the  north,  if  not  to  lay  hands  on  the  race  legacy?" 

She  turned  her  head  at  the  sound  of  approaching 
footsteps,  and  cried  for  greeting,  "  I  appeal  to  you, 
Captain  Alexander!  I  summon  you  to  bear  witness!'' 

The  captain  of  police  smiled  in  his  sternly  mirthful 
fashion  as  he  shook  hands  with  Frona  and  Corliss. 
"  Bear  witness  ?"  he  questioned.  "  Ah,  yes ! 

84 


A    DAUGHTER    OF   THE   SNOWS 

" '  Bear  witness,  O  my  comrades,  what  a  hard-bit  gang  were 

we,— 
The  servants  of  the  sweep-head,  but  the  masters  of  the  sea !'  " 

He  quoted  the  verse  with  a  savage  solemnity  exult 
ing  through  his  deep  voice.  This,  and  the  apposite- 
ness  of  it,  quite  carried  Frona  away,  and  she  had  both 
his  hands  in  hers  on  the  instant.  Corliss  was  aware  of 
an  inward  wince  at  the  action.  It  was  uncomfortable. 
He  did  not  like  to  see  her  so  promiscuous  with  those 
warm,  strong  hands  of  hers.  Did  she  so  favor  all  men 
who  delighted  her  by  word  or  deed  ?  He  did  not  mind 
her  ringers  closing  round  his,  but  somehow  it  seemed 
wanton  when  shared  with  the  next  comer.  By  the 
time  he  had  thought  thus  far,  Frona  had  explained 
the  topic  under  discussion,  and  Captain  Alexander  was 
testifying. 

"  I  don't  know  much  about  your  Slav  and  other  kin, 
except  that  they  are  good  workers  and  strong;  but  I 
do  know  that  the  white  man  is  the  greatest  and  best 
breed  in  the  world.  Take  the  Indian,  for  instance. 
The  white  man  comes  along  and  beats  him  at  all  his 
games,  outworks  him,  out-roughs  him,  out-fishes  him, 
out-hunts  him.  As  far  back  as  their  myths  go,  the 
Alaskan  Indians  have  packed  on  their  backs.  But  the 
gold-rushers,  as  soon  as  they  had  learned  the  tricks  of 
the  trade,  packed  greater  loads  and  packed  them  far 
ther  than  did  the  Indians.  Why,  last  May,  the  Queen's 
birthday,  we  had  sports  on  the  river.  In  the  one,  two, 
three,  four,  and  five  men  canoe  races  we  beat  the 
Indians  right  and  left.  Yet  they  had  been  born  to  the 
paddle,  and  most  of  us  had  never  seen  a  canoe  until 
man-grown." 

85 


A   DAUGHTER    OF    THE   SNOWS 

"  But  why  is  it  ?"  Corliss  queried. 

"  I  do  not  know  why.  I  only  know  that  it  is.  I 
simply  bear  witness.  I  do  know  that  we  do  what  they 
cannot  do,  and  what  they  can  do,  we  do  better." 

Frona  nodded  her  head  triumphantly  at  Corliss. 
"  Come,  acknowledge  your  defeat,  so  that  we  may  go 
in  to  dinner.  Defeat  for  the  time  being,  at  least.  The 
concrete  facts  of  paddles  and  pack-straps  quite  over 
come  your  dogmatics.  Ah,  I  thought  so.  More  time  ? 
All  the  time  in  the  world.  But  let  us  go  in.  We'll  see 
what  my  father  thinks  of  it, — and  Mr.  Kellar.  A 
symposium  on  Anglo-Saxon  supremacy !"  tt*r^  / 

Frost  and  enervation  are  mutually  repellant.  The 
Northland  gives  a  keenness  and  zest  to  the  blood 
which  cannot  be  obtained  in  warmer  climes.  Natu 
rally  so,  then,  the  friendship  which  sprang  up  between 
Corliss  and  Frona  was  anything  but  languid.  They 
met  often  under  her  father's  roof-tree,  and  went  many 
places  together.  Each  found  a  pleasurable  attraction 
in  the  other,  and  a  satisfaction  which  the  things  they 
were  not  in  accord  with  could  not  mar.  Frona  liked 
the  man  because  he  was  a  man.  In  her  wildest  flights 
she  could  never  imagine  linking  herself  with  any  man, 
no  matter  how  exalted  spiritually,  who  was  not  a  man 
physically.  It  was  a  delight  to  her  and  a  joy  to  look 
upon  the  strong  males  of  her  kind,  with  bodies  comely 
in  the  sight  of  God  and  muscles  swelling  with  the 
promise  of  deeds  and  work.  Man,  to  her,  was  pre 
eminently  a  fighter.  She  believed  in  natural  selection 
and  in  sexual  selection,  and  was  certain  that  if  man 
had  thereby  become  possessed  of  faculties  and  func 
tions,  they  were  for  him  to  use  and  could  but  tend  to 

86 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

his  good.  And  likewise  with  instincts.  If  she  lelt 
drawn  to  any  person  or  thing,  it  was  good  for  her  to 
be  so  drawn,  good  for  herself.  If  she  felt  impelled  to 
joy  in  a  well-built  frame  and  well-shaped  muscle,  why 
should  she  restrain?  Why  should  she  not  love  the 
body,  and  without  shame?  The  history  of  the  race, 
and  of  all  races,  sealed  her  choice  with  approval. 
Down  all  time,  the  weak  and  effeminate  males  had 
vanished  from  the  world-stage.  Only  the  strong 
could  inherit  the  earth.  She  had  been  born  of  the 
strong,  and  she  chose  to  cast  her  lot  with  the  strong. 

Yet  of  all  creatures,  she  was  the  last  to  be  deaf  and 
blind  to  the  things  of  the  spirit.  But  the  things  of 
the  spirit  she  demanded  should  be  likewise  strong. 
No  halting,  no  stuttered  utterance,  tremulous  waiting, 
minor  wailing!  The  mind  and  the  soul  must  be  as 
quick  and  definite  and  certain  as  the  body.  Nor  was 
the  spirit  made  alone  for  immortal  dreaming.  Like 
the  flesh,  it  must  strive  and  toil.  It  must  be  workaday 
as  well  as  idle  day.  She  could  understand  a  weakling 
singing  sweetly  and  even  greatly,  and  in  so  far  she 
could  love  him  for  his  sweetness  and  greatness;  but 
her  love  would  have  fuller  measure  were  he  strong  of 
body  as  well.  She  believed  she  was  just.  She  gave 
the  flesh  its  due  and  the  spirit  its  due;  but  she  had, 
over  and  above,  her  own  choice,  her  own  individual 
ideal.  She  liked  to  see  the  two  go  hand  in  hand. 
Prophecy  and  dyspepsia  did  not  affect  her  as  a  felici 
tous  admixture.  A  splendid  savage  and  a  weak-kneed 
poet!  She  could  admire  the  one  for  his  brawn  and 
the  other  for  his  song;  but  she  .would  prefer  that 
they  had  been  made  one  in  the  beginning. 

As  to  Vance  Corliss.  First,  and  most  necessary  of 
87 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

all,  there  was  that  physiological  affinity  between  them 
that  made  the  touch  of  his  hand  a  pleasure  to  her. 
Though  souls  may  rush  together,  if  body  cannot  en 
dure  body,  happiness  is  reared  on  sand  and  the  struct 
ure  will  be  ever  unstable  and  tottery.  Next,  Corliss 
had  the  physical  potency  of  the  hero  without  the  gross- 
ness  of  the  brute.  His  muscular  development  was 
more  qualitative  than  quantitative,  and  it  is  the  quali 
tative  development  which  gives  rise  to  beauty  of  form. 
A  giant  need  not  be  proportioned  in  the  mould ;  nor  a 
thew  be  symmetrical  to  be  massive. 

And  finally, — none  the  less  necessary  but  still  finally, 
— Vance  Corliss  was  neither  spiritually  dead  nor  de 
cadent.  He  affected  Her  as  fresh  and  wholesome  and 
strong,  as  reared  above  the  soil  but  not  scorning  the 
soil.  Of  course,  none  of  this  she  reasoned  out  other 
wise  than  by  subconscious  processes.  Her  conclusions 
were  feelings,  not  thoughts. 

Though  they  quarrelled  and  disagreed  on  innumer 
able  things,  deep  down,  underlying  all,  there  was  a 
permanent  unity.  She  liked  him  for  a  certain  stern 
soberness  that  was  his,  and  for  his  saving  grace  of 
humor.  Seriousness  and  banter  were  not  incompatible. 
She  liked  him  for  his  gallantry,  made  to  work  with 
and  not  for  display.  She  liked  the  spirit  of  his  offer 
at  Happy  Camp,  when  he  proposed  giving  her  an  In 
dian  guide  and  passage-money  back  to  the  United 
States.  He  could  do  as  well  as  talk.  She  liked  him 
for  his  outlook,  for  his  innate  liberality,  which  she  felt 
to  be  there,  somehow,  no  matter  that  often  he  was 
narrow  of  expression.  She  liked  him  for  his  mind. 
XbjSU^h  somewhat  academic,  somewhat  tainted  with 
latter-day  scholasticism,  it  was  still  a  mind  which  per- 

88 


A    DAUGHTER    OF   THE   SNOWS 

mitted  him  to  be  classed  with  the  "  Intellectuals. "  He 
was  capable  of  divorcing  sentiment  and  emotion  from 
reason.  Granted  that  he  included  all  the  factors, 
he  could  not  go  wrong.  And  here  was  where  she 
found  chief  fault  with  him, — his  narrowness  which 
precluded  all  the  factors;  his  narrowness  which  gave 
the  lie  to  the  breadth  she  knew  was  really  his.  But  she 
was  aware  that  it  was  not  an  irremediable  defect,  and 
that  the  new  life  he  was  leading  was  very  apt  to 
rectify  it.  He  was  filled  with  culture ;  what  he  needed 
was  a  few  more  of  life's  facts. 

And  she  liked  him  for  himself,  which  is  quite  dif 
ferent  from  liking  the  parts  which  went  to  compose 
him.  For  it  is  no  miracle  for  two  things,  added  to 
gether,  to  produce  not  only  the  sum  of  themselves, 
but  a  third  thing  which  is  not  to  be  found  in  either 
of  them.  So  with  him.  She  liked  him  for  himself, 
for  that  something  which  refused  to  stand  out  as  a 
part,  or  a  sum  of  parts;  for  that  something  which  is 
the  corner-stone  of  Faith  and  which  has  ever  baffled 
Philosophy  and  Science.  And  further,  to  like,  with 
Frona  Welse,  did  not  mean  to  love. 

First,  and  above  all,  Vance  Corliss  was  drawn  to 
Frona  Welse  because  of  the  clamor  within  him  for 
a  return  to  the  soil.  -In  him  the  elements  were  so 
mixed  that  it  was  impossible  for  women  many  times 
removed  to  find  favor  in  his  eyes.  Such  he  had  met 
constantly,  but  not  one  had  ever  drawn  from  him  a 
superfluous  heart-beat.  Though  there  had  been  in  him 
a  growing  instinctive  knowledge  of  lack  of  unity, — the 
lack  of  unity  which  must  precede,  always,  the  love  of 
man  and  woman, — not  one  of  the  daughters  of  Eve 
he  had  met  had  flashed  irresistibly  in  to  fill  the  void. 

89 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

Elective  affinity,  sexual  affinity,  or  whatsoever  the 
intangible  essence  known  as  love  is,  had  never  been 
manifest.  When  he  met  Frona  it  had  at  once  sprung, 
full-fledged,  into  existence.  But  he  quite  misunder 
stood  it,  took  it  for  a  mere  attraction  towards  the  new 
and  unaccustomed. 

Many  men,  possessed  of  birth  and  breeding,  have 
yielded  to  this  clamor  for  return.  And  giving  the 
apparent  lie  to  their  own  sanity  and  moral  stability, 
many  such  men  have  married  peasant  girls  or  bar 
maids.  And  those  to  whom  evil  apportioned  itself 
have  been  prone  to  distrust  the  impulse  they  obeyed, 
forgetting  that  nature  makes  or  mars  the  individual 
for  the  sake,  always,  of  the  type.  For  in  every  such 
case  of  return,  the  impulse  was  sound, — only  that  time 
and  space  interfered,  and  propinquity  determined 
whether  the  object  of  choice  should  be  bar-maid  or 
peasant  girl. 

Happily  for  Vance  Corliss,  time  and  space  were 
propitious,  and  in  Frona  he  found  the  culture  he  could 
not  do  without,  and  the  clean  sharp  tang  of  the  earth 
he  needed.  In  so  far  as  her  education  and  culture 
went,  she  was  an  astonishment.  He  had  met  the  sci 
entifically  smattered  young  woman  before,  but  Frona 
had  something  more  than  smattering.  Further,  she 
gave  new  life  to  old  facts,  and  her  interpretations  of 
common  things  were  coherent  and  vigorous  and  new. 
Though  his  acquired  conservatism  was  alarmed  and 
cried  danger,  he  could  not  remain  cold  to  the  charm  of 
her  philosophizing,  while  her  scholarly  attainments 
were  fully  redeemed  by  her  enthusiasm.  Though  he 
could  not  agree  with  much  that  she  passionately  held, 

90 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

he  yet  recognized  that  the  passion  of  sincerity  and 
enthusiasm  was  good. 

But  her  chief  fault,  in  his  eyes,  was  her  unconven- 
tionality.  Woman  was  something  so  inexpressibly 
sacred  to  him,  that  he  could  not  bear  to  see  any  good 
woman  venturing  where  the  footing  was  precarious. 
Whatever  goocl  woman  thus  ventured,  overstepping 
the  metes  and  bounds  of  sex  and  status,  he  deemed 
did  so  of  wantonness.  And  wantonness  of  such 
order  was  akin  to — well,  he  could  not  say  it  when 
thinking  of  Frona,  though  she  hurt  him  often  by  her 
unwise  acts.  However,  he  only  felt  such  hurts  when 
away  from  her.  When  with  her,  looking  into  her  eyes 
which  always  looked  back,  or  at  greeting  and  parting 
pressing  her  hand  which  always  pressed  honestly,  it 
seemed  certain  that  there  was  in  her  nothing  but  good 
ness  and  truth. 

And  then  he  liked  her  in  many  different  ways  for 
many  different  things.  For  her  impulses,  and  for  her 
passions  which  were  always  elevated.  And  already, 
from  breathing  the  Northland  air,  he  had  come  to  like 
her  for  that  comradeship  which  at  first  had  shocked 
him.  There  were  other  acquired  likings,  her  lack  of 
prudishness,  for  instance,  which  he  awoke  one  day  to 
find  that  he  had  previously  confounded  with  lack  of 
modesty.  And  it  was  only  the  day  before  that  day 
that  he  drifted,  before  he  thought,  into  a  discussion 
with  her  of  "  Camille."  She  had  seen  Bernhardt,  and 
dwelt  lovingly  on  the  recollection.  He  went  home 
afterwards,  a  dull  pain  gnawing  at  his  heart,  striving 
to  reconcile  Frona  with  the  ideal  impressed  upon  him 
by  his  mother  that  innocence  was  another  term  for 
ignorance.  Notwithstanding,  by  the  following  day  he 

91 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

had  worked  it  out  and  loosened  another  finger  of  the 
maternal  grip. 

He  liked  the  flame  of  her  hair  in  the  sunshine,  the 
glint  of  its  gold  by  the  firelight,  and  the  waywardness 
of  it  and  the  glory.  He  liked  her  neat-shod  feet  and 
the  gray-gaitered  calves, — alas,  now  hidden  in  long- 
skirted  Dawson.  He  liked  her  for  the  strength  of  her 
slenderness ;  and  to  walk  with  her,  swinging  her  step 
and  stride  to  his,  or  to  merely  watch  her  come  across 
a  room  or  down  the  street,  was  a  delight.  Life  and 
,  the  joy  of  life  romped  through  her  blood,  abstemiously 
filling  out  and  rounding  off  each  shapely  muscle  and 
soft  curve.  And  he  liked  it  all.  Especially  he  liked 
the  swell  of  her  forearm,  which  rose  firm  and  strong 
and  tantalizing  and  sought  shelter  all  too  quickly 
under  the  loose-flowing  sleeve. 

The  co-ordination  of  physical  with  spiritual  beauty 
is  very  strong  in  normal  men,  and  so  it  was  with  Vance 
Corliss.  That  he  liked  the  one  was  no  reason  that 
he  failed  to  appreciate  the  other.  He  liked  Frona 
for  both,  and  for  herself  as  well.  And  to  like,  with 
him,  though  he  did  not  know  it,  was  to  love. 


CHAPTER  IX 


VANCE  CORLISS  proceeded  at  a  fair  rate  to  adapt 
himself  to  the  Northland  life,  and  he  found  that  many 
adjustments  came  easy.  While  his  own  tongue  was 
alien  to  the  brimstone  of  the  Lord,  he  became  quite 
used  to  strong  language  on  the  part  of  other  men, 
even  in  the  most  genial  conversation.  Carthey,  a 
little  Texan  who  went  to  work  for  him  for  a  while, 
opened  or  closed  every  second  sentence,  on  an  average, 
with  the  rnild  expletive,  "  By  damn !"  It  was  also  his 
invariable  way  of  expressing  surprise,  disappoint 
ment,  consternation,  or  all  the  rest  of  the  tribe  of 
J*  sudden  emotions.  By  pitch  and  stress  and  intona- 
u  tion,  the  jxrotgan  oath  was  made  to  perform  every 
y  function  of  ordinary  speech.  At  first  it  was  a  con 
stant  source  of  irritation  and  disgust  to  Corliss,  but 
erelong  he  grew  not  only  to  tolerate  it,  but  to  like  it, 
and  to  wait  for  it  eagerly.  Once,  Carthey's  wheel-dog 
lost  an  ear  in  a  hasty  contention  with  a  dog  of  the 
Hudson  Bay,  and  when  the  young  fellow  bent  over 
the  animal  and  discovered  the  loss,  the  blended  en 
dearment  and  pathos  of  the  "  by  damn"  which  fell 
from  his  lips  was  a  revelation  to  Corliss.  All  was  not 
evil  out  of  Nazareth,  he  concluded  sagely,  and,  like 
Jacob  Welse  of  old,  revised  his  philosophy  of  life 
accordingly. 

Again,  there  were  two  sides  to  the  social  life  of 
93 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

Dawson.  Up  at  the  Barracks,  at  the  Welse's,  and  a 
few  other  places,  all  men  of  standing  were  welcomed 
and  made  comfortable  by  the  womenkind  of  like  stand 
ing.  There  were  teas,  and  dinners,  and  dances,  and 
socials  for  charity,  arid  the  usual  run  of  things;  all 
of  which,  however,  failed  to  wholly  satisfy  the  men. 
Down  in  the  town  there  was  a  totally  different  though 
equally  popular  other  side.  As  the  country  was  too 
young  for  club-life,  the  masculine  portion  of  the  com 
munity  expressed  its  masculinity  by  herding  together 
in  the  saloons, — the  ministers  and  missionaries  being 
the  only  exceptions  to  this  mode  of  expression.  Busi 
ness  appointments  and  deals  were  made  and  consum 
mated  in  the  saloons,  enterprises  projected,  shop 
talked,  the  latest  news  discussed,  and  a  general  good 
fellowship  maintained.  There  all  life  rubbed  shoul 
ders,  and  kings  and  dog-drivers,  old-timers  'and 
chechaquos,  met  on  a  common  level.  And  it  so  hap 
pened,  probably  because  saw-mills  and  house-space 
were  scarce,  that  the  saloons  accommodated  the 
gambling  tables  and  the  polished  dance-house  floors. 
And  here,  because  he  needs  must  bend  to  custom, 
Corliss's  adaptation  went  on  rapidly.  And  as  Carthey, 
who  appreciated  him,  soliloquized,  "  The  best  of  it  is 
he  likes  it  damn  well,  by  damn!" 
^Bufany^lLdjustment  must  have  its  painful  periods, 
and  while  Corliss's  general  change  went  on  smoothly, 
in  the  particular  case  of  Frona  it  was  different.  She 
had  a  code  of  her  own,  quite  unlike  that  of  the  com 
munity,  and  perhaps  believed  woman  might  do  things 
at  which  even  the  saloon-inhabiting  males  would  be 
shocked.  And  because  of  this,  she  and  Corliss  had 
their  first  disagreeable  disagreement. 

94 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE    SNOWS 

Frona  loved  to  run  with  the  dogs  through  the  biting 
frost,  cheeks  tingling,  blood  bounding,  body  thrust 
forward,  and  limbs  rising  and  falling  ceaselessly  to 
the  pace.  And  one  November  day,  with  the  first  cold 
snap  on  and  the  spirit  thermometer  frigidly  marking 
sixty-five  below,  she  got  out  the  sled,  harnessed  her 
team  of  huskies,  and  flew  down  the  river  trail.  As 
soon  as  she  cleared  the  town  she  was  off  and  running. 
And  in  such  manner,  running  and  riding  by  turns,  she 
swept  through  the  Indian  village  below  the  bluffs, 
made  an  eight-mile  circle  up  Moosehide  Creek  and 
back,  crossed  the  river  on  the  ice,  and  several  hours 
later  came  flying  up  the  west  bank  of  the  Yukon  oppo 
site  the  town.  She  was  aiming  to  tap  and  return  by 
the  trail  for  the  wood-sleds  which  crossed  thereabout, 
but  a  mile  away  from  it  she  ran  into  the  soft  snow 
and  brought  the  winded  dogs  to  a  walk. 

Along  the  rim  of  the  river  and  under  the  frown  of 
the  overhanging  cliffs,  she  directed  the  path  she  was 
:ing.    Here  and  there  she  made  detours  to  avoid 
ut- jutting  talus,  and  at  other  times  followed  the 
i  against  the  precipitous  walls  and  hugged  them 
y  around  the  abrupt  bends.    And  so,  at  the  head 
her  huskies,  she  came  suddenly  upon  a  woman 
in  the  snow  and  gazing  across  the  river  at 
anopied  Dawson.     She  had  been  crying,  and 
I:  was  sufficient  to  prevent  Frona's  scrutiny  from 
tig  farther.    A  tear,  turned  to  a  globule  of  ice, 
u  her  cheek,  and  her  eyes  were  dim  and  moist; 
jBwas  an  expression  of  hopeless,  fathomless  woe. 

Frona  cried,  stopping  the  dogs  and  coming 
t>  her.     "You  are  hurt?     Can  I  help  you?"  she 
*  '-id,  though  the  stranger  jhook  her  head.     "  But 
95 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

you  mustn't  sit  there.  It  is  nearly  seventy  below,  and 
you'll  freeze  in  a  few  minutes.  Your  cheeks  are  bitten 
already."  She  rubbed  the  afflicted  parts  vigorously 
with  a  mitten  of  snow,  and  then  looked  down  on  the 
warm  returning  glow. 

"  I  beg  pardon."  The  woman  rose  somewhat  stiffly 
to  her  feet.  "  And  I  thank  you,  but  I  am  perfectly 
warm,  you  see"  (settling  the  fur  cape  more  closely 
about  her  with  a  snuggling  movement),  "and  I  had 
just  sat  down  for  the  moment." 

Frona  noted  that  she  was  very  beautiful,  and  her 
woman's  eye  roved  over  and  took  in  the  splendid  furs, 
the  make  of  the  gown,  and  the  bead-work  of  the  moc 
casins  which  peeped  from  beneath.  And  in  view  of 
all  this,  and  of  the  fact  that  the  face  was  unfamiliar, 
she  felt  an  instinctive  desire  to  shrink  back. 

"  And  I  haven't  hurt  myself,"  the  woman  went  on. 
"  Just  a  mood,  that  was  all,  looking  out  over  the 
dreary  endless  white." 

"  Yes,"  Frona  replied,  mastering  herself ;  "  I  can 
understand.  There  must  be  much  of  sadness  in  such 
a  landscape,  only  it  never  comes  that  way  to  me.  The 
sombreness  and  the  sternness  of  it  appeal  to  me,  but 
not  the  sadness." 

"  And  that  is  because  the  lines  of  our  lives  have 
been  laid  in  different  places,"  the  other  ventured,  re 
flectively.  "  It  is  not  what  the  landscape  is,  but  what 
we  are.  If  we  were  not,  the  landscape  would  remain, 
but  without  human  significance.  That  is  what  we 
invest  it  with. 

"  '  Truth  is  within  oursei  ves ;   it  takes  no  rise 
From  outward  things   whate'er  you  may  believe/  " 

96 


A   DAUGHTER   OF  THE   SNOWS 

Frona's  eyes  brightened,  and  she  went  on  to  com 
plete  the  passage : 

" '  There  is  an  inmost  centre  in  us  all, 

Where  truth  abides  in  fulness;  and  around,' 

"  And — and — how  does  it  go  ?    I  have  forgotten." 
"  '  Wall  upon  wall,  the  gross  flesh  hems  it  in '  " 

The  woman  ceased  abruptly,  her  voice  trilling  off 
into  silvery  laughter  with  a  certain  bitter  reckless  ring 
to  it  which  made  Frona  inwardly  shiver.  She  moved 
as  though  to  go  back  to  her  dogs,  but  the  woman's 
hand  went  out  in  a  familiar  gesture, — twin  to  Frona's 
own, — which  went  at  once  to  Frona's  heart. 

"  Stay  a  moment,"  she  said,  with  an  undertone  of 
pleading  in  the  words,  "  and  talk  with  me.  It  is  long 
since  I  have  met  a  woman" — she  paused  while  her 
tongue  wandered  for  the  word — "  who  could  quote 
'  Paracelsus.'  You  are,— I  know  you,  you  see, — you 
are  Jacob  Welse's  daughter,  Frona  Welse,  I  believe." 

Frona  nodded  her  identity,  hesitated,  and  looked  at 
the  woman  with  secret  intentness.  She  was  conscious 
of  a  great  and  pardonable  curiosity,  of  a  frank  out- 
reaching  for  fuller  knowledge.  This  creature,  so  like, 
so  different;  old  as  the  oldest  race,  and  young  as  the 
last  rose-tinted  babe;  flung  far  as  the  farthermost 
fires  of  men,  and  eternal  as  humanity  itself — where 
were  they  unlike,  this  woman  and  she?  Her  five 
senses  told  her  not;  by  every  law  of  life  they  were 
not ;  only,  only  by  the  fast-drawn  lines  of  social  caste 
and  social  wisdom  were  they  not  the  same.  So  she 
thought,  even  as  for  one  searching  moment  she  studied 
the  other's  face.  And  in  the  situation  she  found  an 
7  97 


A   DAUGHTER   OF  THE   SNOWS 

uplifting  awfulness,  such  as  comes  when  the  veil  is 
thrust  aside  and  one  gazes  on  the  mysteriousness  of 
Deity.  She  remembered :  "  Her  feet  take  hold  of  hell ; 
her  house  is  the  way  to  the  grave,  going  down  to  the 
chamber  of  death,"  and  in  the  same  instant  strong 
upon  her  was  the  vision  of  the  familiar  gesture  with 
which  the  woman's  hand  had  gone  out  in  mute  appeal, 
and  she  looked  aside,  out  over  the  dreary  endless 
white,  and  for  her,  too,  the  day  became  filled  with 
sadness. 

She  gave  an  involuntary,  half-nervous  shiver, 
though  she  said,  naturally  enough,  "  Come,  let  us 
walk  on  and  get  the  blood  moving  again.  I  had  no 
idea  it  was  so  cold  till  I  stood  still."  She  turned  to 
the  dogs :  "  Mush-on !  King !  You  Sandy !  Mush !" 
And  back  again  to  the  woman,  "  I  am  quite  chilled, 
and  as  for  you,  you  must  be " 

"  Quite  warm,  of  course.  You  have  been  running 
and  your  clothes  are  wet  against  you,  while  I  have 
kept  up  the  needful  circulation  and  no  more.  I  saw 
you  when  you  leaped  off  the  sled  below  the  hospital 
and  vanished  down  the  river  like  a  Diana  of  the  snows. 
How  I  envied  you!  You  must  enjoy  it." 

"  Oh,  I  do,"  Frona  answered,  simply.  "  I  was 
raised  with  the  dogs." 

"  It  savors  of  the  Greek." 

Frona  did  not  reply,  and  they  walked  on  in  silence. 
Yet  Frona  wished,  though  she  dared  not  dare,  that 
she  could  give  her  tongue  free  rein,  and  from  out  of 
the  other's  bitter  knowledge,  for  her  own  soul's  sake 
and  sanity,  draw  the  pregnant  human  generalizations 
which  she  must  possess.  And  over  her  welled  a  wave 
of  pity  and  distress ;  and  she  felt  a  discomfort,  for  she 

98 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

knew  not  what  to  say  or  how  to  voice  her  heart.  And 
when  the  other's  speech  broke  forth,  she  hailed  it 
with  a  great  relief. 

"  Tell  me,"  the  woman  demanded,  half-eagerly, 
half-masterly,  "  tell  me  about  yourself.  You  are  new 
to  the  Inside.  Where  were  you  before  you  came  in? 
Tell  me." 

So  the  difficulty  was  solved,  in  a  way,  and  Frona 
talked  on  about  herself,  with  a  successfully  feigned 
girlhood  innocence,  as  though  she  did  not  appreciate 
the  other  or  understand  her  ill-concealed  yearning  for 
that  which  she  might  not  have,  but  which  was  Frona's. 

"  There  is  the  trail  you  are  trying  to  connect  with." 
They  had  rounded  the  last  of  the  cliffs,  and  Frona's 
companion  pointed  ahead  to  where  the  walls  receded 
and  wrinkled  to  a  gorge,  out  of  which  the  sleds  drew 
the  firewood  across  the  river  to  town.  "  I  shall  leave 
you  there,"  she  concluded. 

"  But  are  you  not  going  back  to  Dawson  ?"  Frona 
queried.  "  It  is  growing  late,  and  you  had  better  not 
linger." 

"No  ....   I   .    ..." 

Her  painful  hesitancy  brought  Frona  to  a  realiza 
tion  of  her  own  thoughtlessness.  But  she  had  made 
the  step,  and  she  knew  she  could  not  retrace  ic. 

"  We  will  go  back  together,"  she  said,  bravely.  And 
in  candid  all-knowledge  of  the  other,  "  I  do  not  mind." 

Then  it  was  that  the  blood  surged  into  the  woman's 
cold  face,  and  her  hand  went  out  to  the  girl  in  the  old, 
old  way. 

"  No,  no,  I  beg  of  you,"  she  stammered.  "  I  beg 
of  you  ....  I  ....  I  prefer  to  continue  my 
walk  a  little  farther.  See !  Some  one  is  coming  now  I" 

99 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  the  wood-trail,  and 
Frona's  face  was  flaming  as  the  other's  had  flamed. 
A  light  sled,  dogs  a-lope  and  swinging  down  out  of 
the  gorge,  was  just  upon  them.  A  man  was  running 
with  the  team,  and  he  waved  his  hand  to  the  two 
women. 

"  Vance !"  Frona  exclaimed,  as  he  threw  his  lead- 
dogs  in  the  snow  and  brought  the  sled  to  a  halt. 
"  What  are  you  doing  over  here  ?  Is  the  syndicate  bent 
upon  cornering  the  firewood  also  ?" 

"  No.  We're  not  so  bad  as  that."  His  face  was  full 
of  smiling  happiness  at  the  meeting  as  he  shook  hands 
with  her.  "But  Carthey  is  leaving  me, — going  pros 
pecting  somewhere  around  the  North  Pole,  I  believe, 
— and  I  came  across  to  look  up  Del  Bishop,  if  he'll 
serve." 

He  turned  his  head  to  glance  expectantly  at  her 
companion,  and  she  saw  the  smile  go  out  of  his  face 
and  anger  come  in.  Frona  was  helplessly  aware 
that  she  had  no  grip  over  the  situation,  and,  though 
a  rebellion  at  the  cruelty  and  injustice  of  it  was  smoul 
dering  somewhere  deep  down,  she  could  only  watch 
the  swift  culmination  of  the  little  tragedy.  The  woman 
met  his  gaze  with  a  half-shrinking,  as  from  an  im 
pending  blow,  and  with  a  softness  of  expression  which 
entreated  pity.  But  he  regarded  her  long  and  coldly, 
then  deliberately  turned  his  back.  As  he  did  this,  Frona 
noted  her  face  go  tired  and  gray,  and  the  hardness 
and  recklessness  of  her  laughter  were  there  painted 
in  harsh  tones,  and  a  bitter  devil  rose  up  and  lurked 
in  her  eyes.  It  was  evident  that  the  same  bitter  devil 
rushed  hotly  to  her  tongue.  But  it  chanced  just  then 
that  she  glanced  at  Frona,  and  all  expression  was 

100 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 


brushed  from  her  face  save  the  infinite  tiredness.  She 
smiled  wistfully  at  the  girl,  and  without  a  word  turned 
and  went  down  the  trail. 

And  without  a  word  Frona  sprang  upon  her  sled 
and  was  off.  The  way  was  wide,  and  Corliss  swung 
in  his  dogs  abreast  of  hers.  The  smouldering  rebel 
lion  flared  up,  and  she  seemed  to  gather  to  herself 
some  of  the  woman's  recklessness. 

"  You  brute !" 

The  words  left  her  mouth,  sharp,  clear-cut,  break 
ing  the  silence  like  the  lash  of  a  whip.  The  unexpect 
edness  of  it,  and  the  savagery,  took  Corliss  aback.  He 
did  not  know  what  to  do  or  say. 

"  Oh,  you  coward !    You  coward !" 

"  Frona !    Listen  to  me " 

But  she  cut  him  off.  "  No.  Do  not  speak.  You 
can  have  nothing  to  say.  You  have  behaved  abom 
inably.  I  am  disappointed  in  you.  It  is  horrible! 
horrible!" 

"  Yes,  it  was  horrible, — horrible  that  she  should 
walk  with  you,  have  speech  with  you,  be  seen  with 
you." 

'  Not  until  the  sun  excludes  you,  do  I  exclude 
you/  "  she  flung  back  at  him. 

"  But  there  is  a  fitness  of  things " 

"  Fitness !"  She  turned  upon  him  and  loosed  her 
wrath.  "If  she  is  unfit,  are  you  fit?  May  you  cast 
the  first  stone  with  that  smugly  sanctimonious  air  of 
yours?" 

"  You  shall  not  talk  to  me  in  this  fashion.  I'll  not 
have  it." 

He  clutched  at  her  sled,  and  even  in  the  midst  of  her 
anger  she  noticed  it  with  a  little  thrill  of  pleasure. 

101 


OF   THE   SNOWS 


"Shall  not?    You  coward!" 

He  reached  out  as  though  to  lay  hands  upon  her, 
and  she  raised  her  coiled  whip  to  strike.  But  to  his 
credit  he  never  flinched  ;  his  white  face  calmly  waited 
to  receive  the  blow.  Then  she  deflected  the  stroke, 
and  the  long  lash  hissed  out  and  fell  among  the  dogs. 
Swinging  the  whip  briskly,  she  rose  to  her  knees  on 
the  sled  and  called  frantically  to  the  animals.  Hers 
was  the  better  team,  and  she  shot  rapidly  away  from 
Corliss.  She  wished  to  get  away,  not  so  much  from 
him  as  from  herself,  and  she  encouraged  the  huskies 
into  wilder  and  wilder  speed.  She  took  the  steep 
river-bank  in  full  career  and  dashed  like  a  whirlwind 
through  the  town  and  home.  Never  in  her  life  had 
she  been  in  such  a  condition;  never  had  she  experi 
enced  such  terrible  anger.  And  not  only  was  she 
already  ashamed,  but  she  was  frightened  and  afraid 
of  herself. 


102 


CHAPTER  X 


THE  next  morning  Corliss  was  knocked  out  of  a 
late  bed  by  Bash,  one  of  Jacob  Welse's  Indians.  He 
was  the  bearer  of  a  brief  little  note  from  Frona, 
which  contained  a  request  for  the  mining  engineer  to 
come  and  see  her  at  his  first  opportunity.  That  was 
all  that  was  said,  and  he  pondered  over  it  deeply. 
What  did  she  wish  to  say  to  him  ?  She  was  still  such 
an  unknown  quantity, — and  never  so  much  as  now  in 
the  light  of  the  day  before, — that  he  could  not  guess. 
Did  she  desire  to  give  him  his  dismissal  on  a  definite, 
well-understood  basis?  To  take  advantage  of  her  sex 
and  further  humiliate  him?  To  tell  him  what  she 
thought  of  him  in  coolly  considered,  cold-measured 
terms?  Or  was  she  penitently  striving  to  make 
amends  for  the  unmerited  harshness  she  had  dealt 
him?  There  was  neither  contrition  nor  anger  in  the 
note,  no  clew,  nothing  save  a  formally  worded  desire 
to  see  him. 

So  it  was  in  a  rather  unsettled  and  curious  frame  of 
mind  that  he  walked  in  upon  her  as  the  last  hour  of 
the  morning  drew  to  a  close.  He  was  neither  on  his 
dignity  nor  off,  his  attitude  being  strictly  non-com 
mittal  against  the  moment  she  should  disclose  hers. 
But  without  beating  about  the  bush,  in  that  way  of 
hers  which  he  had  come  already  to  admire,  she  at 
once  showed  her  colors  and  came  frankly  forward  to 

103 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

him.  The  first  glimpse  of  her  face  told  him,  the  first 
feel  of  her  hand,  before  she  had  said  a  word,  told  him 
that  all  was  well. 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  come,"  she  began.  "  I  could 
not  be  at  peace  with  myself  until  I  had  seen  you  and 
told  you  how  sorry  I  am  for  yesterday,  and  how  deeply 
ashamed  I " 

"  There,  there.  It's  not  so  bad  as  all  that."  They 
were  still  standing,  and  he  took  a  step  nearer  to  her. 
"  I  assure  you  I  can  appreciate  your  side  of  it ;  and 
though,  looking  at  it  theoretically,  it  was  the  highest 
conduct,  demanding  the  fullest  meed  of  praise,  still,  in 
all  frankness,  there  is  much  to — to " 

"  Yes." 

"  Much  to  deplore  in  it  from  the  social  stand-point. 
And  unhappily,  we  cannot  leave  the  social  stand-point 
out  of  our  reckoning.  But  so  far  as  I  may  speak  for 
myself,  you  have  done  nothing  to  feel  sorry  for  or  be 
ashamed  of." 

"  It  is  kind  of  you,"  she  cried,  graciously.  "  Only 
it  is  not  true,  and  you  know  it  is  not  true.  You  know 
that  you  acted  for  the  best ;  you  know  that  I  hurt  you, 
insulted  you ;  you  know  that  I  behaved  like  a  fish-wife, 
and  you  do  know  that  I  disgusted  you " 

"  No,  no !"  He  raised  his  hand  as  though  to  ward 
from  her  the  blows  she  dealt  herself. 

"  But  yes,  yes.  And  I  have  all  reason  in  the 
world  to  be  ashamed.  I  can  only  say  this  in  defence: 
the  woman  had  affected  me  deeply — so  deeply  that  I 
was  close  to  weeping.  Then  you  came  on  the  scene, — 
you  know  what  you  did, — and  the  sorrow  for  her  bred 
an  indignation  against  you,  and — well,  I  worked  my 
self  into  a  nervous  condition  such  as  I  had  never 

104 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE   SNOWS 

experienced  in  my  life.  It  was  hysteria,  I  suppose. 
Anyway,  I  was  not  myself." 

"  We  were  neither  of  us  ourselves." 

"  Now  you  are  untrue.  I  did  wrong,  but  you  were 
yourself,  as  much  so  then  as  now.  But  do  be  seated. 
Here  we  stand  as  though  you  were  ready  to  run  away 
at  first  sign  of  another  outbreak." 

"  Surely  you  are  not  so  terrible !"  he  laughed, 
adroitly  pulling  his  chair  into  position  so  that  the 
light  fell  upon  her  face. 

"  Rather,  you  are  not  such  a  coward.  I  must  have 
been  terrible  yesterday.  I — I  almost  struck  you.  And 
you  were  certainly  brave  when  the  whip  hung  over 
you.  Why,  you  did  not  even  attempt  to  raise  a  hand 
and  shield  yourself." 

"  I  notice  the  dogs  your  whip  falls  among  come 
nevertheless  to  lick  your  hand  and  to  be  petted." 

"  Ergo  ?"  she  queried,  audaciously. 

"  Ergo,  it  all  depends,"  he  equivocated. 

"  And,  notwithstanding,  I  am  forgiven  ?" 

"  As  I  hope  to  be  forgiven." 

"  Then  I  am  glad — only,  you  have  done  nothing  to 
be  forgiven  for.  You  acted  according  to  your  light, 
and  I  to  mine,  though  it  must  be  acknowledged  that 
mine  casts  the  broader  flare.  Ah!  I  have  it,"  clap 
ping  her  hands  in  delight,  "  I  was  not  angry  with  you 
yesterday;  nor  did  I  behave  rudely  to  you,  or  even 
threaten  you.  It  was  utterly  impersonal,  the  whole 
of  it.  You  simply  stood  for  society,  for  the  type  which 
aroused  my  indignation  and  anger;  and,  as  its  repre 
sentative,  you  bore  the  brunt  of  it.  Don't  you  see  ?" 

"  I  see,  and  cleverly  put ;  only,  while  you  escape 
the  charge  of  maltreating  me  yesterday,  you  throw 

105 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

yourself  open  to  it  to-day.  You  make  me  out  all  that 
is  narrow-minded  and  mean  and  despicable,  which  is 
very  unjust.  Only  a  few  minutes  past  I  said  that 
your  way  of  looking  at  it,  theoretically  considered,  was 
irreproachable.  But  not  so  when  we  include  society/* 

"  But  you  misunderstand  me,  Vance.  Listen."  Her 
hand  went  out  to  his,  and  he  was  content  to  listen. 
"  I  have  always  upheld  that  what  is  is  well.  I  grant 
the  wisdom  of  the  prevailing  social  judgment  in  this 
matter.  Though  I  deplore  it,  I  grant  it;  for  the  hu 
man  is  so  made.  But  I  grant  it  socially  only.  I,  as  an 
individual,  choose  to  regard  such  things  differently. 
And  as  between  individuals  so  minded,  why  should  it 
not  be  so  regarded  ?  Don't  you  see  ?  Now  I  find  you 
guilty.  As  between  you  and  me,  yesterday,  on  the 
river,  you  did  not  so  regard  it.  You  behaved  as 
narrow-mindedly  as  would  have  the  society  you  rep 
resent." 

"  Then  you  would  preach  two  doctrines  ?"  he  retali 
ated.  "  One  for  the  elect  and  one  for  the  herd  ?  You 
would  be  a  democrat  in  theory  and  an  aristocrat  in 
practice?  In  fact,  the  whole  stand  you  are  making  is 
nothing  more  or  less  than  Jesuitical." 

"  I  suppose  with  the  next  breath  you  will  be  contend 
ing  that  all  men  are  born  free  and  equal,  with  a  bundle 
of  natural  rights  thrown  in?  You  are  going  to  have 
Del  Bishop  work  for  you;  by  what  equal  free-born 
right  will  he  work  for  you,  or  you  suffer  him  to 
work?" 

"  No,"  he  denied.  "  I  should  have  to  modify  some 
what  the  questions  of  equality  and  rights." 

"  And  if  you  modify,  you  are  lost !"  she  exulted. 
"  For  you  can  only  modify  in  the  direction  of  my  posi- 

106 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

tion,  which  is  neither  so  Jesuitical  nor  so  harsh  as  you 
have  defined  it.  But  don't  let  us  get  lost  in  dialectics. 
I  want  to  see  what  I  can  see,  so  tell  me  about  this 
woman." 

"  Not  a  very  tasteful  topic,"  Corliss  objected. 

"  But  I  seek  knowledge." 

"  Nor  can  it  be  wholesome  knowledge." 

Frona  tapped  her  foot  impatiently,  and  studied  him. 

"  She  is  beautiful,  very  beautiful,"  she  suggested. 
"Do  you  not  think  so?" 

"  As  beautiful  as  hell." 

"  But  still  beautiful,"  she  insisted. 

"  Yes,  if  you  will  have  it  so.  And  she  is  as  cruel, 
and  hard,  and  hopeless  as  she  is  beautiful." 

"  Yet  I  came  upon  her,  alone,  by  the  trail,  her  face 
softened,  and  tears  in  her  eyes.  And  I  believe,  with 
a  woman's  ken,  that  I  saw  a  side  of  her  to  which  you 
are  blind.  And  so  strongly  did  I  see  it,  that  when  you 
appeared  my  mind  was  blank  to  all  save  the  solitary 
wail,  Oh,  the  pity  of  it!  The  pity  of  it!  And  she  is 
a  woman,  even  as  I,  and  I  doubt  not  that  we  are  very 
much  alike.  Why,  she  even  quoted  Browning " 

"And  last  week,"  he  cut  her  short,  "in  a  single 
sitting,  she  gambled  away  thirty  thousand  of  Jack 
Dorsey's  dust, — Dorsey,  with  two  mortgages  already 
on  his  dump!  They  found  him  in  the  snow  next 
morning,  with  one  chamber  empty  in  his  revolver." 

Frona   made  no   reply,  but,   walking  over   to   the 
candle,  deliberately  thrust  her  finger  into  the  flame. 
Then  she  held  it  up  to  Corliss  that  he  might  see  the 
if**^)butraged  skin,  red  and  angry. 

"  And  so  I  point  the  parable.  The  fire  is  very  good* 
but  I  misuse  it,  and  I  am  punished." 

107 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

"  You  forget,"  he  objected.  "  The  fire  works  in 
blind  obedience  to  natural  law.  Lucile  is  a  free  agent. 
That  which  she  has  chosen  to  do,  that  she  has  done." 

"  Nay,  it  is  you  who  forget,  for  just  as  surely  Dor- 
sey  was  a  free  agent.  But  you  said  Lucile.  Is  that 
her  name  ?  I  wish  I  knew  her  better." 

Corliss  winced.  "  Don't !  You  hurt  me  when  you 
say  such  things." 

"And  why,  pray?" 

"  Because — because " 

"Yes?" 

"  Because  I  honor  woman  highly.  Frona,  you  have 
always  made  a  stand  for  frankness,  and  I  can  now 
advantage  by  it.  It  hurts  me  because  of  the  honor  in 
which  I  hold  you,  because  I  cannot  bear  to  see  taint 
approach  you.  Why,  when  I  saw  you  and  that  woman 
together  on  the  trail,  I — you  cannot  understand  what 
I  suffered." 

"  Taint  ?"  There  was  a  tightening  about  her  lips 
which  he  did  not  notice,  and  a  just  perceptible  lustre 
of  victory  lighted  her  eyes. 

"  Yes,  taint, — contamination,"  he  reiterated.  "  There 
are  sortie  things  which  it  were  not  well  for  a  good 
woman  to  understand.  One  cannot  dabble  with  mud 
and  remain  spotless." 

"  That  opens  the  field  wide."  She  clasped  and  un 
clasped  her  hands  gleefully.  "  You  have  said  that  her 
name  was  Lucile;  you  display  a  knowledge  of  her; 
you  have  given  me  facts  about  her;  you  doubtless 
retain  many  which  you  dare  not  give ;  in  short,  if  one 
cannot  dabble  and  remain  spotless,  how  about  you?" 

-"But  I  am " 

"  A  man,  of  course.  Very  good.  Because  you  are 
108 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

a  man,  you  may  court  contamination.  Because  I  am 
a  woman,  I  may  not.  Contamination  contaminates, 
does  it  not?  Then  you,  what  do  you  here  with  me? 
Out  upon  you !" 

Corliss  threw  up  his  hands  laughingly.    "  I  give  in."" 
You  are  too  much  for  me  with  your  formal  logic.     I 
can  only  fall  back  on  the  higher  logic,  which  you  will 
not  recognize." 

"  Which  is " 

"  Strength.  What  man  wills  for  woman,  that  will 
he  have/' 

"  I  take  you,  then,  on  your  own  ground,"  she  rushed 
on.  "  What  of  Lucile  ?  What  man  has  willed  that 
he  has  had.  So  you,  and  all  men,  have  willed  since  the 
beginning  of  time.  So  poor  Dorsey  willed.  You  can 
not  answer,  so  let  me  speak  something  that  occurs  to 
me  concerning  that  higher  logic  you  call  strength.  I 
have  met  it  before.  I  recognized  it  in  you,  yesterday, 
on  the  sleds." 

"In  me?" 

"  In  you,  when  you  reached  out  and  clutched  at 
me.  You  could  not  down  the  primitive  passion,  and, 
for  that  matter,  you  did  not  know  it  was  uppermost. 
But  the  expression  on  your  face,  I  imagine,  was  very 
like  that  of  a  woman-stealing  cave-man.  Another  in 
stant,  and  I  am  sure  you  would  have  laid  violent  hands 
upon  me." 

"  Then  I  ask  your  pardon.    I  did  not  dream -" 

"  There  you  go,  spoiling  it  all !  I — I  quite  liked 
you  for  it.  Don't  you  remember,  I,  too,  was  a  cave- 
woman,  brandishing  the  whip  over  your  head? 

"  But  I  am  not  done  with  you  yet,  Sir  Doubleface, 
even  if  you  have  dropped  out  of  the  battle."  Her  eyes 

109 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE   SNOWS 

were  sparkling  mischievously,  and  the  wee  laughter- 
creases  were  forming  on  her  cheek.  "  I  purpose  to 
unmask  you." 

"  As  clay  in  the  hands  of  the  potter,"  he  responded, 
meekly. 

"  Then  you  must  remember  several  things.  At  first, 
when  I  was  very  humble  and  apologetic,  you  made  it 
easier  for  me  by  saying  that  you  could  only  condemn 
my  conduct  on  the  ground  of  being  socially  unwise. 
Remember?" 

Corliss  nodded. 

"  Then,  just  after  you  branded  me  as  Jesuitical,  I 
turned  the  conversation  to  Lucile,  saying  that  I 
wished  to  see  what  I  could  see." 

Again  he  nodded. 

"  And  just  as  I  expected,  I  saw.  For  in  only  a  few 
minutes  you  began  to  talk  about  taint,  and  contamina 
tion,  and  dabbling  in  mud, — and  all  in  relation  to  me. 
There  are  your  two  propositions,  sir.  You  may  only 
stand  on  one,  and  I  feel  sure  that  you  stand  on  the 
last  one.  Yes,  I  am  right.  You  do.  And  you  were 
insincere,  confess,  when  you  found  my  conduct  un 
wise  only  from  the  social  point  of  view.  I  like  sin 
cerity." 

"  Yes,"  he  began,  "  I  was  unwittingly  insincere.  But 
I  did  not  know  it  until  further  analysis,  with  your  help, 
put  me  straight.  Say  what  you  will,  Frona,  my  con 
ception  of  woman  is  such  that  she  should  not  court 
defilement." 

"  But  cannot  we  be  as  gods,  knowing  good  and 
evil?" 

"  But  we  are  not  gods,"  he  shook  his  head,  sadly. 

"Only  the  men  are?" 

no 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

"  That  is  new-womanish  talk,"  he  frowned.  "  Equal 
rights,  the  ballot,  and  all  that." 

"Oh!  Don't!"  she  protested.  "You  won't  un 
derstand  me;  you  can't.  I  am  no  woman's  rights' 
creature ;  and  I  stand,  not  for  the  new  woman,  but  for 
the  new  womanhood.  Because  I  am  sincere;  because 
I  desire  to  be  natural,  and  honest,  and  true;  and  be 
cause  I  am  consistent  with  myself,  you  choose  to  mis 
understand  it  all  and  to  lay  wrong  strictures  upon 
me.  I  do  try  to  be  consistent,  and  I  think  I  fairly 
succeed ;  but  you  can  see  neither  rhyme  nor  reason 
in  my  consistency.  Perhaps  it  is  because  you  are 
unused  to  consistent,  natural  women ;  because,  more 
likely,  you  are  only  familiar  with  the  hot-house  breeds, 
— pretty,  helpless,  well-rounded,  stall-fatted  little 
things,  blissfully  innocent  and  criminally  ignorant. 
They  are  not  natural  or  strong;  nor  can  they  mother 
the  natural  and  strong." 

She  stopped  abruptly.  They  heard  somebody  enter 
the  hall,  and  a  heavy,  soft-moccasined  tread  approach 
ing. 

"  We  are  friends,"  she  added  hurriedly,  and  Corliss 
answered  with  his  eyes. 

"  Ain't  intrudin',  am  I  ?"  Dave  Harney  grinned 
broad  insinuation  and  looked  about  ponderously  before 
coming  up  to  shake  hands. 

"Not  at  all,"  Corliss  answered.  "We've  bored 
each  other  till  we  were  pining  for  some  one  to  come 
along.  If  you  hadn't,  we  would  soon  have  been 
quarrelling,  wouldn't  we,  Miss  Welse  ?" 

"  I  don't  think  he  states  the  situation  fairly,"  she 
smiled  back.  "  In  fact,  we  had  already  begun  to 
quarrel." 

in 


A   DAUGHTER   OF  THE   SNOWS 

"  You  do  look  a  mite  flustered,"  Harney  criticised, 
dropping  his  loose- jointed  frame  all  over  the  pillows 
of  the  lounging  couch. 

"  How's  the  famine  ?"  Corliss  asked.  "  Any  public 
relief  started  yet?" 

"Won't  need  any  public  relief.  Miss  Frona's  old 
man  was  too  forehanded  fer  'em.  Scairt  the  daylights 
out  of  the  critters,  I  do  b'lieve.  Three  thousand  went 
out  over  the  ice  hittin'  the  high  places,  an'  half  ez 
many  again  went  down  to  the  caches,  and  the  market's 
loosened  some  considerable.  Jest  what  Welse  figgered 
on,  everybody  speculated  on  a  rise  and  held  all  the 
grub  they  could  lay  hand  to.  That  helped  scare  the 
shorts,  and  away  they  stampeded  fer  Salt  Water,  the 
whole  caboodle,  a-takin'  all  the  dogs  with  'em. 
Say !"  he  sat  up  solemnly,  "  corner  dogs !  They'll 
rise  suthin'  unheard  on  in  the  spring  when  freightin' 
gits  brisk.  I've  .corralled  a  hundred  a'ready,  an*  I 
rigger  to  clear  a  hundred  dollars  clean  on  every  hide 
of  'em." 

"Think  so?" 

"  Think  so !  I  guess  yes.  Between  we  three,  con 
fidential,  I'm  startin'  a  couple  of  lads  down  into  the 
Lower  Country  next  week  to  buy  up  five  hundred  of 
the  best  huskies  they  kin  spot.  Think  so!  I've 
limbered  my  jints  too  long  in  the  land  to  git  caught 
nappin'." 

Frona  burst  out  laughing.  "  But  you  got  pinched 
on  the  sugar,  Dave." 

"  Oh,  I  dunno,"  he  responded,  complacently. 
"  Which  reminds  me.  I've  got  a  noospaper,  an* 
only  four  weeks'  old,  the  Seattle  Post-Intelligencer" 

"  Has  the  United  States  and  Spain " 

112 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

"Not  so  fast,  not  so  fast!"  The  long  Yankee 
waved  his  arms  for  silence,  cutting  off  Frona's  ques 
tion  which  was  following  fast  on  that  of  Corliss. 

"  But  have  you  read  it  ?"  they  both  demanded. 

"  Unh  huh,  every  line,  advertisements  an'  all." 

"  Then  do  tell  me,"  Frona  began.    "  Has " 

"  Now  you  keep  quiet,  Miss  Frona,  till  I  tell  you 
about  it  reg'lar.  That  noospaper  cost  me  fifty  dol 
lars — caught  the  man  comin'  in  round  the  bend  above 
Klondike  City,  an'  bought  it  on  the  spot.  The  dummy 
could  a-got  a  hundred  fer  it,  easy,  if  he'd  held  on  till 
he  made  town " 

"  But  what  does  it  say?    Has " 

"  Ez  I  was  sayin',  that  noospaper  cost  me  fifty  dol 
lars.  It's  the  only  one  that  come  in.  Everybody's 
jest  dyin'  to  hear  the  noos.  So  I  invited  a  select 
number  of  'em  to  come  here  to  yer  parlors  to-night, 
Miss  Frona,  ez  the  only  likely  place,  an'  they  kin  read 
it  out  loud,  by  shifts,  ez  long  ez  they  want  or  till 
they're  tired — that  is,  if  you'll  let  'em  have  the  use  of 
the  place." 

"  Why,  of  course,  they  are  welcome.  And  you  are 
very  kind  to " 

He  waved  her  praise  away.  "  Jest  ez  I  kalkilated. 
Now  it  so  happens,  ez  you  said,  that  I  was  pinched 
on  sugar.  So  every  mother's  son  and  daughter  that 
gits  a  squint  at  that  paper  to-night  got  to  pony  up 
five  cups  of  sugar.  Savve?  Five  cups, — big  cups, 
white,  or  brown,  or  cube, — an'  I'll  take  their  I  O  U's, 
an'  send  a  boy  round  to  their  shacks  the  day  followin* 
to  collect." 

Frona's  face  went  blank  at  the  telling,  then  the 
laughter  came  back  into  it.  "  Won't  it  be  jolly  ?  I'll 
8  113 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

do  it  if  it  raises  a  scandal.  To-night,  Dave?  Sure 
to-night?" 

"  Sure.  An'  you  git  a  complimentary,  you  know, 
fer  the  loan  of  yer  parlor." 

"  But  papa  must  pay  his  five  cups.  You  must  in 
sist  upon  it,  Dave." 

Dave's  eyes  twinkled  appreciatively.  "  I'll  git  it 
back  on  him,  you  bet!" 

"  And  I'll  make  him  come,"  she  promised,  "  at  the 
tail  of  Dave  Harney's  chariot." 

"  Sugar  cart,"  Dave  suggested.  "  An'  to-morrow 
night  I'll  take  the  paper  down  to  the  Opery  House. 
Won't  be  fresh,  then,  so  they  kin  git  in  cheap ;  a  cup'll 
be  about  the  right  thing,  I  reckon."  He  sat  up  and 
cracked  his  huge  knuckles  boastfully.  "  I  ain't  ben 
a-burnin'  daylight  sence  navigation  closed ;  an'  if  they 
set  up  all  night  they  won't  be  up  early  enough  in  the 
mornin'  to  git  ahead  of  Dave  Harney — even  on  a 
sugar  proposition." 


114 


CHAPTER  XI 


OVER  in  the  corner  Vance  Corliss  leaned  against 
the  piano,  deep  in  conversation  with  Colonel  Tretha- 
way.  The  latter,  keen  and  sharp  and  wiry,  for  all 
his  white  hair  and  sixty-odd  years,  was  as  young  in 
appearance  as  a  man  of  thirty.  A  veteran  mining 
engineer,  with  a  record  which  put  him  at  the  head 
of  his  profession,  he  represented  as  large  American 
interests  as  Corliss  did  British.  Not  only  had  a  cor 
dial  friendship  sprung  up  between  them,  but  in  a  busi 
ness  way  they  had  already  been  of  large  assistance  to 
each  other.  And  it  was  well  that  they  should  stand 
together, — a  pair  whd  held  in  grip  and  could  direct 
at  will  the  potent  capital  which  two  nations  had  con 
tributed  to  the  development  of  the  land  under  the  Pole. 

The  crowded  room  was  thick  with  tobacco  smoke. 
A  hundred  men  or  so,  garbed  in  furs  and  warm- 
colored  wools,  lined  the  walls  and  looked  on.  But 
the  mumble  of  their  general  conversation  destroyed 
the  spectacular  feature  of  the  scene  and  gave  to  it 
the  geniality  of  common  comradeship.  For  all  its 
bizarre  appearance,  it  was  very  like  the  living-room 
of  the  home  when  the  members  of  the  household  come 
together  after  the  work  of  the  day.  Kerosene  lamps 
and  tallow  candles  glimmered  feebly  in  the  murky 
atmosphere,  while  large  stoves  roared  their  red-hot 
and  white-hot  cheer. 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

On  the  floor  a  score  of  couples  pulsed  rhythmically 
to  the  swinging  waltz-time  music.^  Starched  shirts 
and  frock  coats  were  not*'  The  "men  wore  their 
wolf-  and  beaver-skin  caps,  with  the  gay-tasselled  ear- 
flaps  flying  free,  while  on  their  feet  were  the  moose- 
skin  moccasins  and  walrus-hide  muclucs  of  the  north. 
Here  and  there  a  woman  was  in  moccasins,  though 
the  majority  danced  in  frail  ball-room  slippers  of  silk 
and  satin.  At  one  end  of  the  hall  a  great  open  door 
way  gave  glimpse  of  another  large  room  where  the 
crowd  was  even  denser.  From  this  room,  in  the  lulls 
in  the  music,  came  the  pop  of  corks  and  the  clink  of 
glasses,  and  as  an  undertone  the  steady  click  and  clatter 
of  chips  and  roulette  balls. 

The  small  door  at  the  rear  opened,  and  a  woman, 
befurred  and  muffled,  came  in  on  a  wave  of  frost. 
The  cold  rushed  in  with  her  to  the  warmth,  taking 
form  in  a  misty  cloud  which  hung  close  to  the  floor, 
hiding  the  feet  of  the  dancers,  and  writhing  and  twist 
ing  until  vanquished  by  the  heat. 

"  A  veritable  frost  queen,  my  Lucile,"  Colonel 
Trethaway  addressed  her. 

She  tossed  her  head  and  laughed,  and,  as  she  re 
moved  her  capes  and  street-moccasins,  chatted  with 
him  gayly.  But  of  Corliss,  though  he  stood  within 
a  yard  of  her,  she  took  no  notice.  Half  a  dozen 
dancing  men  were  waiting  patiently  at  a  little  dis 
tance  till  she  should  have  done  with  the  colonel.  The 
piano  and  violin  played  the  opening  bars  c  schot- 
tische,  and  she  turned  to  go;  but  a  sudc  ^ulse 

made  Corliss  step  up  to  her.     It  was  who!!  *e- 

meditated;  he  had  not  dreamed  of  doing  it. 

"  I  am  very  sorry,"  he  said. 
116 


A   DAUGHTER   OF  THE   SNOWS 

Her  eyes  flashed  angrily  as  she  turned  upon  him. 

"  I  mean  it,"  he  repeated,  holding  out  his  hand. 
"  I  am  very  sorry.  I  was  a  brute  and  a  coward.  Will 
you  forgive  me?" 

She  hesitated,  and,  with  the  wisdom  bought  of  ex 
perience,  searched  him  for  the  ulterior  motive.  Then 
her  face  softened,  and  she  took  his  hand.  A  warm 
mist  dimmed  her  eyes. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said. 

But  the  waiting  men  had  grown  impatient,  and  she 
was  whirled  away  in  the  arms  of  a  handsome  young 
fellow,  conspicuous  in  a  cap  of  yellow  Siberian  wolf 
skin.  Corliss  came  back  to  his  companion,  feeling  un 
accountably  good  and  marvelling  at  what  he  had  done. 

"  It's  a  damned  shame."  The  colonel's  eye  still 
followed  Lucile,  and  Vance  understood.  "  Corliss, 
I've  lived  my  threescore,  and  lived  them  well,  and  do 
you  know,  woman  is  a  greater  mystery  than  ever. 
Look  at  them,  look  at  them  all!"  He  embraced  the 
whole  scene  with  his  eyes.  "  Butterflies,  bits  of  light 
and  song  and  laughter,  dancing,  dancing  down  the  last 
tail-reach  of  hell.  Not  only  Lucile,  but  the  rest  of 
them.  Look  at  May,  there,  with  the  brow  of  a  Ma 
donna  and  the  tongue  of  a  gutter-devil.  And  Myrtle — 
for  all  the  world  one  of  Gainsborough's  old  English 
beauties  stepped  down  from  the  canvas  to  riot  out 
the  century  in  Dawson's  dance-halls.  And  Laura, 
there,  wouldn't  she  make  a  mother?  Can't  you  see 
the  child  in  the  curve  of  her  arm  against  her  breast! 
They're  the  best  of  the  boiling,  I  know, — a  new  coun 
try  always  gathers  the  best, — but  there's  something 
wrong,  Corliss,  something  wrong.  The  heats  of  life 
have  passed  with  me,  and  my  vision  is  truer,  surer. 

117 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

It  seems  a  new  Christ  must  arise  and  preach  a  new 
salvation — economic  or  sociologic — in  these  latter 
days,  it  matters  not,  so  long  as  it  is  preached.  The 
world  has  need  of  it." 

The  room  was  wont  to  be  swept  by  sudden  tides, 
and  notably  between  the  dances,  when  the  revellers 
ebbed  through  the  great  doorway  to  where  corks 
popped  and  glasses  tinkled.  Colonel  Trethaway  and 
Corliss  followed  out  on  the  next  ebb  to  the  bar,  where 
fifty  men  and  women  were  lined  up.  They  found 
themselves  next  to  Lucile  and  the  fellow  in  the  yellow 
wolf-skin  cap.  He  was  undeniably  handsome,  and 
his  looks  were  enhanced  by  a  warm  overplus  of  blood 
in  the  cheeks  and  a  certain  mellow  fire  in  the  eyes. 
He  was  not  technically  drunk,  for  he  had  himself  in 
perfect  physical  control;  but  his  was  the  soul-exhila 
ration  which  conies  of  the  juice  of  the  grape.  His 
voice  was  raised  the  least  bit  and  joyous,  and  his 
tongue  made  quick  and  witty — just  in  the  unstable 
condition  when  vices  and  virtues  are  prone  to  ex 
travagant  expression. 

As  he  raised  his  glass,  the  man  next  to  him  acci 
dentally  jostled  his  arm.  He  shook  the  wine  from 
his  sleeve  and  spoke  his  mind.  It  was  not  a  nice 
word,  but  one  customarily  calculated  to  rouse  the 
fighting  blood.  And  the  other  man's  blood  roused, 
for  his  fist  landed  under  the  wolf-skin  cap  with  force 
sufficient  to  drive  its  owner  back  against  Corliss.  The 
insulted  man  followed  up  his  attack  swiftly.  The 
women  slipped  away,  leaving  a  free  field  for  the  men, 
some  of  whom  were  for  crowding  in,  and  some  for 
giving  room  and  fair  play. 

The  wolf -skin  cap  did  not  put  up  a  fight  or  try 
118 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

to  meet  the  wrath  he  had  invoked,  but,  with  his  hands 
shielding  his  face,  strove  to  retreat.  The  crowd  called 
upon  him  to  stand  up  and  fight.  He  nerved  himself  to 
the  attempt,  but  weakened  as  the  man  closed  in  on  him, 
and  dodged  away. 

"  Let  him  alone.  He  deserves  it,"  the  colonel  called 
to  Vance  as  he  showed  signs  of  interfering.  "  He 
won't  fight.  If  he  did,  I  think  I  could  almost  forgive 
him." 

"  But  I  can't  see  him  pummelled,"  Vance  objected. 
"  If  he  would  only  stand  up,  it  wouldn't  seem  so 
brutal." 

The  blood  was  streaming  from  his  nose  and  from 
a  slight  cut  over  one  eye,  when  Corliss  sprang  be 
tween.  He  attempted  to  hold  the  two  men  apart,  but 
pressing  too  hard  against  the  truculent  individual, 
overbalanced  him  and  threw  him  to  the  floor.  Every 
man  has  friends  in  a  bar-room  fight,  and  before  Vance 
knew  what  was  taking  place  he  was  staggered  by  a 
blow  from  a  chum  of  the  man  he  had  downed.  Del 
Bishop,  who  had  edged  in,  let  drive  promptly  at  the 
man  who  had  attacked  his  employer,  and  the  fight  be 
came  general.  The  crowd  took  sides  on  the  moment 
and  went  at  it. 

Colonel  Trethaway  forgot  that  the  heats  of  life 
had  passed,  and  swinging  a  three-legged  stool,  danced 
nimbly  into  the  fray.  A  couple  of  mounted  police, 
on  liberty,  joined  him,  and  with  half  a  dozen  others 
safeguarded  the  man  with  the  wolf-skin  cap. 

Fierce  though  it  was,  and  noisy,  it  was  purely  a 
local  disturbance.  At  the  far  end  of  the  bar  the  bar 
keepers  still  dispensed  drinks,  and  in  the  next  room 
the  music  was  on  and  the  dancers  afoot.  The  gam- 

119 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

biers  continued  their  play,  and  at  only  the  near  tables 
did  they  evince  any  interest  in  the  affair. 

"  Knock'm  down  an'  drag'm  out !"  Del  Bishop 
grinned,  as  he  fought  for  a  brief  space  shoulder  to 
shoulder  with  Corliss. 

Corliss  grinned  back,  met  the  rush  of  a  stalwart 
dog-driver  with  a  clinch,  and  came  down  on  top  of 
him  among  the  stamping  feet.  He  was  drawn  close, 
and  felt  the  fellow's  teeth  sinking  into  his  ear.  Like 
a  flash,  he  surveyed  his  whole  future  and  saw  him 
self  going  one-eared  through  life,  and  in  the  same 
flash,  as  though  inspired,  his  thumbs  flew  to  the  man's 
eyes  and  pressed  heavily  on  the  balls.  Men  fell  over 
him  and  trampled  upon  him,  but  it  all  seemed  very 
dim  and  far  away.  He  only  knew,  as  he  pressed  with 
his  thumbs,  that  the  man's  teeth  wavered  reluctantly. 
He  added  a  little  pressure  (a  little  more,  and  the  man 
would  have  been  eyeless),  and  the  teeth  slackened  and 
slipped  their  grip. 

After  that,  as  he  crawled  out  of  the  fringe  of  the 
melee  and  came  to  his  feet  by  the  side  of  the  bar, 
all  distaste  for  fighting  left  him.  He  had  found  that 
he  was  very  much  like  other  men  after  all,  and  the 
imminent  loss  of  part  of  his  anatomy  had  scraped  off 
twenty  years  of  culture.  Gambling  without  stakes  is 
an  insipid  amusement,  and  Corliss  discovered,  like 
wise,  that  the  warm  blood  which  rises  from  hygienic 
gymnasium  work  is  something  quite  different  from 
that  which  pounds  hotly  along  when  thew  matches 
thew  and  flesh  impacts  on  flesh  and  the  stake  is  life 
and  limb.  As  he  dragged  himself  to  his  feet  by  means 
of  the  bar-rail,  he  saw  a  man  in  a  squirrel-skin  parka 
lift  a  beer-mug  to  hurl  at  Trethaway,  a  couple  of 

120 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

paces  off.  And  the  fingers,  which  were  more  used  to 
test-tubes  and  water  colors,  doubled  into  a  hard  fist 
which  smote  the  mug-thrower  cleanly  on  the  point 
of  the  jaw.  The  man  merely  dropped  the  glass  and 
himself  on  the  floor.  Vance  was  dazed  for  the  mo 
ment,  then  he  realized  that  he  had  knocked  the  man 
unconscious, — the  first  in  his  life, — and  a  pang  of  de 
light  thrilled  through  him. 

Colonel  Trethaway  thanked  him  with  a  look,  and 
shouted,  "  Get  on  the  outsfde !  Work  to  the  door, 
Corliss !  Work  to  the  door !" 

Quite  a  struggle  took  place  before  the  storm-doors 
could  be  thrown  open;  but  the  colonel,  still  attached 
to  the  three-legged  stool,  effectually  dissipated  the  op 
position,  and  the  Opera  House  disgorged  its  turbu 
lent  contents  into  the  street.  This  accomplished,  hos 
tilities  ceased,  after  the  manner  of  such  fights,  and  the 
crowd  scattered.  The  two  policemen  went  back  to 
keep  order,  accompanied  by  the  rest  of  the  allies,  while 
Corliss  and  the  colonel,  followed  by  the  Wolf-Skin 
Cap  and  Del  Bishop,  proceeded  up  the  street. 

"  Blood  and   sweat !     Blood  and   sweat !"   Colonel 

?.xulted.     "  Talk  about  putting  the   vim 

Why,  I'm  twenty  years  younger  if  I'm  a 

day!     Corliss,  your  hand.     I  congratulate  you,  I  do, 

I  heartily  do.    Candidly,  I  didn't  think  it  was  in  you. 

e  a  surprise,  sir,  a  surprise !" 
And  a  surprise  to  myself,"  Corliss  answered.   The 
reaction  had  set  in,  and  he  was  feeling  sick  and  faint. 
"  And    you,    also,    are    a    surprise.      The    way    you 

handled  that  stool " 

res.  now!    I  flatter  myself  I  did  fairly  well  with 
it.     Did  you  see — well,  look  at  that!"     He  held  up 

121 


A   DAUGHTER   OF  THE   SNOWS 

the  weapon  in  question,  still  tightly  clutched,  and 
joined  in  the  laugh  against  himself. 

"Whom  have  I  to  thank,  gentlemen?" 

They  had  come  to  a  pause  at  the  corner,  and  the 
man  they  had  rescued  was  holding  out  his  hand. 

"  My  name  is  St.  Vincent,"  he  went  on,  "  and " 

"  What  name  ?"  Del  Bishop  queried  with  sudden 
interest. 

"  St.  Vincent,  Gregory  St.  Vfcicent " 

Bishop's  fist  shot  out,  and  Gregory  St.  Vincent 
pitched  heavily  into  the  snow.  The  colonel  instinc 
tively  raised  the  stool,  then  helped  Corliss  to  hold  the 
pocket-miner  back. 

"  Are  you  crazy,  man  ?"  Vance  demanded. 

"  The  skunk !  I  wish  I'd  hit  'm  harder !"  was  the 
response.  Then,  "  Oh,  that's  all  right.  Let  go  o'  me. 
I  won't  hit  'm  again.  Let  go  o'  me,  I'm  goin'  home. 
Good-night." 

As  they  helped  St.  Vincent  to  his  feet,  Vance  could 
have  sworn  he  heard  the  colonel  giggling.  And  he 
confessed  to  it  later,  as  he  explained,  "  It  was  so  curi 
ous  and  unexpected."  But  he  made  amends  by  taking 
it  upon  himself  to  see  St.  Vincent  home. 

"  But  why  did  you  hit  him  ?"  Corliss  asked,  un- 
availingly,  for  the  fourth  time  after  he  had  got  into 
his  cabin. 

"  The  mean,  crawlin'  skunk !"  the  pocket-miner 
gritted  in  his  blankets.  "  What'd  you  stop  me  for, 
anyway  ?  I  wish  I'd  hit  'm  twice  as  hard !" 


122 


CHAPTER  XII 


"  MR.  HARNEY,  pleased  to  meet  you.  Dave,  I  be 
lieve,  Dave  Harney?"  Dave  Harney  nodded,  and 
Gregory  St.  Vincent  turned  to  Frona.  "  You  see, 
Miss  Welse,  the  world  is  none  so  large.  Mr.  Harney 
and  I  are  not  strangers  after  all." 

The  Eldorado  king  studied  the  other's  face  until  a 
glimmering  intelligence  came  to  him.  "  Hold  on !"  he 
cried,  as  St.  Vincent  started  to  speak,  "  I  got  my  finger 
on  you.  You  were  smooth-faced  then.  Let's  see, — 
'86,  fall  of  '87,  summer  of  '88, — yep,  that's  when.  Sum 
mer  of  '88  I  come  floatin'  a  raft  out  of  Stewart  River, 
loaded  down  with  quarters  of  moose  an'  strainin'  to 
make  the  Lower  Country  'fore  they  went  bad.  Yep, 
an'  down  the  Yukon  you  come,  in  a  Linderman  boat. 
An'  I  was  holdin'  strong,  ez  it  was  Wednesday,  an' 
my  pardner  ez  it  was  Friday,  an'  you  put  us  straight 
— Sunday,  I  b'lieve  it  was.  Yep,  Sunday.  I  declare! 
Nine  years  ago!  And  we  swapped  moose-steaks  fer 
flour  an'  bakin'  soda,  an' — an' — an'  sugar!  By  the 
Jimcracky !  I'm  glad  to  see  you  1" 

He  shoved  out  his  hand  and  they  shook  again. 

"  Come  an'  see  me,"  he  invited,  as  he  moved  away. 
"  I've  a  right  tidy  little  shack  up  on  the  hill,  and 
another  on  Eldorado.  Latch-string's  always  out. 
Come  an'  see  me,  an'  stay  ez  long  ez  you've  a  mind 
to.  Sorry  to  quit  you  cold,  but  I  got  to  traipse  down 

123 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

to  the  Opery  House  and  collect  my  taxes, — sugar. 
Miss  Frona'll  tell  you." 

"  You  are  a  surprise,  Mr.  St.  Vincent."  Frona 
switched  back  to  the  point  of  interest,  after  briefly 
relating  Harney's  saccharine  difficulties.  "  The  coun 
try  must  indeed  have  been  a  wilderness  nine  years 
ago,  and  to  think  that  you  went  through  it  at  that 
early  day !  Do  tell  me  about  it." 

Gregory  St.  Vincent  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
"  There  is  very  little  to  tell.  It  was  an  ugly  failure, 
filled  with  many  things  that  are  not  nice,  and  contain 
ing  nothing  of  which  to  be  proud." 

"  But  do  tell  me.  I  enjoy  such  things.  They  seem 
closer  and  truer  to  life  than  the  ordinary  every-day 
happenings.  A  failure,  as  you  call  it,  implies  some 
thing  attempted.  What  did  you  attempt?" 

He  noted  her  frank  interest  with  satisfaction. 
"  Well,  if  you  will,  I  can  tell  you  in  few  words  all 
there  is  to  tell.  I  took  the  mad  idea  into  my  head 
of  breaking  a  new  path  around  the  world,  and  in  the 
interest  of  science  and  journalism,  particularly  jour 
nalism,  I  proposed  going  through  Alaska,  crossing 
the  Bering  Straits  on  the  ice,  and  journeying  to  Eu 
rope  by  way  of  Northern  Siberia.  It  was  a  splendid 
undertaking,  most  of  it  being  virgin  ground,  only  I 
failed.  I  crossed  the  Straits  in  good  order,  but  came 
to  grief  in  Eastern  Siberia — all  because  of  Tamerlane 
is  the  excuse  I  have  grown  accustomed  to  making." 

"A  Ulysses!"  Mrs.  Schoville  clapped  her  hands 
and  joined  them.  "  A  modern  Ulysses !  How  ro 
mantic  !" 

"  But  not  an  Othello,"  Frona  replied.  "  His  tongue 
is  a  sluggard.  He  leaves  one  at  the  most  interesting 

124 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

point  with  an  enigmatical  reference  to  a  man  of  a 
bygone  age.  You  take  an  unfair  advantage  of  us,  Mr. 
St.  Vincent,  and  we  shall  be  unhappy  until  you  show 
how  Tamerlane  brought  your  journey  to  an  untimely 
end." 

He  laughed,  and  with  an  effort  put  aside  his  reluc 
tance  to  speak  of  his  travels.  "  When  Tamerlane 
swept  with  fire  and  sword  over  Eastern  Asia,  states 
were  disrupted,  cities  overthrown,  and  tribes  scat 
tered  like  star-dust.  In  fact,  a  vast  people  was  hurled 
broadcast  over  the  land.  Fleeing  before  the  mad  lust 
of  the  conquerors,  these  refugees  swung  far  into 
Siberia,  circling  to  the  north  and  east  and  fringing 
the  rim  of  the  polar  basin  with  a  spray  of  Mongol 
tribes — am  I  not  tiring  you?" 

"  No,  no !"  Mrs.  Schoville  exclaimed.  "  It  is  fasci 
nating!  Your  method  of  narration  is  so  vivid!  It 
reminds  me  of — of " 

"  Of  Macaulay,"  St.  Vincent  laughed,  good-na 
turedly.  "  You  know  I  am  a  journalist,  and  he  has 
strongly  influenced  my  style.  But  I  promise  you  I 
shall  tone  down.  However,  to  return,  had  it  not  been 
for  these  Mongol  tribes,  I  should  not  have  been  halted 
in  my  travels.  Instead  of  being  forced  to  marry  a 
greasy  princess,  and  to  become  proficient  in  interclan- 
nish  warfare  and  reindeer-stealing,  I  should  have 
travelled  easily  and  peaceably  to  St.  Petersburg." 

"  Oh,  these  heroes !  Are  they  not  exasperating, 
Frona?  But  what  about  the  reindeer-stealing  and  the 
greasy  princesses  ?" 

The  Gold  Commissioner's  wife  beamed  upon  him, 
and  glancing  for  permission  to  Frona,  he  went  on. 

"  The  coast  people  were  Esquimo  stock,  merry- 
125 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

natured  and  happy,  and  inoffensive.  They  called 
themselves  the  Oukilion,  or  the  Sea  Men.  I  bought 
dogs  and  food  from  them,  and  they  treated  me  splen 
didly.  But  they  were  subject  to  the  Chow  Chuen,  or 
interior  people,  who  were  known  as  the  Deer  Men. 
The  Chow  Chuen  were  a  savage,  indomitable  breed, 
with  all  the  fierceness  of  the  untamed  Mongol,  plus 
double  his  viciousness.  As  soon  as  I  left  the  coast 
they  fell  upon  me,  confiscated  my  goods,  and  made 
me  a  slave." 

"  But  were  there  no  Russians  ?"  Mrs.  Schoville 
asked. 

"  Russians  ?  Among  the  Chow  Chuen  ?"  He 
laughed  his  amusement.  "  Geographically,  they  are 
within  the  White  Tsar's  domain;  but  politically  no. 
I  doubt  if  they  ever  heard  of  him.  Remember,  the 
interior  of  North-Eastern  Siberia  is  hidden  in  the 
polar  gloom,  a  terra  incognita,  where  few  men  have 
gone  and  none  has  returned." 

"  But  you " 

"  I  chance  to  be  the  exception.  Why  I  was  spared, 
I  do  not  know.  It  just  so  happened.  At  first  I  was 
vilely  treated,  beaten  by  the  women  and  children, 
clothed  in  vermin-infested  mangy  furs,  and  fed  on 
refuse.  They  were  utterly  heartless.  How  I  man 
aged  to  survive  is  beyond  me;  but  I  know  that  often 
and  often,  at  first,  I  meditated  suicide.  The  only 
thing  that  saved  me  during  that  period  from  taking 
my  own  life  was  the  fact  that  I  quickly  became  too 
stupefied  and  bestial,  what  of  my  suffering  and  degra 
dation.  Half-frozen,  half-starved,  undergoing  untold 
misery  and  hardship,  beaten  many  and  many  a  time 
into  insensibility,  I  became  the  sheerest  animal. 

12  , 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

"  On  looking  back  much  of  it  seems  a  dream.  There 
are  gaps  which  my  memory  cannot  fill.  I  have  vague 
recollections  of  being  lashed  to  a  sled  and  dragged 
from  camp  to  camp  and  tribe  to  tribe.  Carted  about 
for  exhibition  purposes,  I  suppose,  much  as  we  do 
lions  and  elephants  and  wild  men.  How  far  I  so 
journeyed  up  and  down  that  bleak  region  I  cannot 
guess,  though  it  must  have  been  several  thousand 
miles.  I  do  know  that  when  consciousness  returned 
to  me  and  I  really  became  myself  again,  I  was  fully 
a  thousand  miles  to  the  west  of  the  point  where  I  was 
captured. 

"  It  was  springtime,  and  from  out  of  a  forgotten 
past  it  seemed  I  suddenly  opened  my  eyes.  A  rein 
deer  thong  was  about  my  waist  and  made  fast  to  the 
tail-end  of  a  sled.  This  thong  I  clutched  with  both 
hands,  like  an  organ-grinder's  monkey ;  for  the  flesh 
of  my  body  was  raw  and  in  great  sores  from  where 
the  thong  had  cut  in. 

"A  low  cunning  came  to  me,  and  I  made  myself 
agreeable  and  servile.  That  night  I  danced  and  sang, 
and  did  my  best  to  amuse  them,  for  I  was  resolved 
to  incur  no  more  of  the  maltreatment  which  had 
plunged  me  into  darkness.  Now  the  Deer  Men 
traded  with  the  Sea  Men,  and  the  Sea  Men  with 
the  whites,  especially  the  whalers.  So  later  I  dis 
covered  a  deck  of  cards  in  the  possession  of  one  of 
the  women,  and  I  proceeded  to  mystify  the  Chow 
Chuen  with  a  few  commonplace  tricks.  Likewise, 
with  fitting  solemnity,  I  perpetrated  upon  them  the 
little  I  knew  of  parlor  legerdemain.  Result:  I  was 
appreciated  at  once,  and  was  better  fed  and  better 
clothed. 

127 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

"  To  make  a  long  story  short,  I  gradually  became 
a  man  of  importance.  First  the  old  people  and  the 
women  came  to  me  for  advice,  and  later  the  chiefs. 
My  slight  but  rough  and  ready  knowledge  of  medi 
cine  and  surgery  stood  me  in  good  stead,  and  I  be 
came  indispensable.  From  a  slave,  I  worked  myself 
to  a  seat  among  the  head  men,  and  in  war  and  peace, 
so  soon  as  I  had  learned  their  ways,  was  an  unchal 
lenged  authority.  Reindeer  was  their  medium  of  ex 
change,  their  unit  of  value  as  it  were,  and  we  were 
almost  constantly  engaged  in  cattle  forays  among  the 
adjacent  clans,  or  in  protecting  our  own  herds  from 
their  inroads.  I  improved  upon  their  methods,  taught 
them  better  strategy  and  tactics,  and  put  a  snap  and 
go  into  their  operations  which  no  neighbor  tribe  could 
withstand. 

"  But  still,  though  I  became  a  power,  I  was  no 
nearer  my  freedom.  It  was  laughable,  for  I  had  over 
reached  myself  and  made  myself  too  valuable.  They 
cherished  me  with  exceeding  kindness,  but  they  were 
jealously  careful.  I  could  go  and  come  and  command 
without  restraint,  but  when  the  trading  parties  went 
down  to  the  coast  I  was  not  permitted  to  accompany 
them.  That  was  the  one  restriction  placed  upon  my 
movements. 

"Also,  it  is  very  tottery  in  the  high  places,  and 
when  I  began  altering  their  political  structures  I  came 
to  grief  again.  In  the  process  of  binding  together 
twenty  or  more  of  the  neighboring  tribes  in  order  to 
settle  rival  claims,  I  was  given  the  over-lordship  of  the 
federation.  But  Old  Pi-Une  was  the  greatest  of  the 
under-chiefs, — a  king  in  a  way, — and  in  relinquishing 
his  claim  to  the  supreme  leadership  he  refused  to 

128 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

forego  all  the  honors.  The  least  that  could  be  done  to 
appease  him  was  for  me  to  marry  his  daughter  Ils- 
wunga.  Nay,  he  demanded  it.  I  offered  to  abandon 
the  federation,  but  he  would  not  hear  of  it.  And " 

"And?"  Mrs.  Schoville  murmured  ecstatically. 

"And  I  married  Ilswunga,  which  is  the  Chow 
Chuen  name  for  Wild  Deer.  Poor  Ilswunga!  Like 
Swinburne's  Iseult  of  Brittany,  and  I  Tristram !  The 
last  I  saw  of  her  she  was  playing  solitaire  in  the  Mis 
sion  of  Irkutsky  and  stubbornly  refusing  to  take  a 
bath." 

"  Oh,  mercy !  It's  ten  o'clock !"  Mrs.  Schoville  sud 
denly  cried,  her  husband  having  at  last  caught  her 
eye  from  across  the  room.  "  I'm  so  sorry  I  can't  hear 
the  rest,  Mr.  Sf_  Vi.cent>  now  vou  escaped  and  all 
that.  But  v  ou  must  -ome  and  see  me.  I  am  just 
dying  to  "near !" 

"  And  I  took  yor  fc>r  a  tenderfoot,  a  chechaquo" 
Ij'rona  said  meekly  as  St.  Vincent  tied  his  ear-flaps 
and  turned  up  his  c^lar  preparatory  to  leaving. 

"I  dislike  posingT  he  answered,  matching  her 
meekness.  "  It  smack6  °*  insincerity ;  it  really  is  un 
true.  And  it  is  so  ^asY  to  s*ip  into  it.  Look  at  the 
fcld-timers,— '  sour-boughs'  as  they  proudly  call  them 
selves.  Just  because  they  have  been  in  the  country  a 
few  years,  they  le1  themselves  grow  wild  and  woolly 
and  glorify  in  it.  They  may  not  know  it,  but  it  is  a 
pose.  In  so  far  as  they  cultivate  salient  peculiarities, 
they  cultivate  falseness  to  themselves  and  live  lies." 

"  I  hardly  think  you  are  wholly  just,"  Frona  said, 
in  defence  of  :-ier  chosen  heroes.  "  I  do  like  what 
you  say  about  the  matter  in  general,  and  I  detest 
posing,  but  the  majority  of  the  old-timers  would  be 

9  *2Q 


A    DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

peculiar  in  any  country,  under  any  circumstances. 
That  peculiarity  is  their  own;  it  is  their  mode  of 
expression.  And  it  is,  I  am  sure,  just  what  makes 
them  go  into  new  countries.  The  normal  man,  of 
course,  stays  at  home." 

"  Oh,  I  quite  agree  with  you,  Miss  Welse,"  he 
temporized  easily.  "  I  did  not  intend  it  so  sweepingly. 
I  meant  to  brand  that  sprinkling  among  them  who  are 
poseurs.  In  the  main,  as  you  say,  they  are  honest,  and 
sincere,  and  natural." 

"  Then  we  have  no  quarrel.  But  Mr.  St.  Vincent, 
before  you  go,  would  you  care  to  come  to-morrow 
evening?  We  are  getting  up  theatricals  for  Christ 
mas.  I  know  you  can  help  us  g  eaiJy,  and  I  think  it 
will  not  be  altogether  unenjoy.-.ole  to  ^  ~>u.  All  the 
younger  people  are  interested,— the  official,  officers 
of  police,  mining  engineers,  gemlemen  rovers,  aA*d  so 
forth,  to  say  nothing  of  the  nic?  women.  You  are 
bound  to  like  them." 

"  I  am  sure  I  shall,"  as  he  took  her  hand.  "  To 
morrow,  did  you  say?" 

"  To-morrow  evening.     Good- night." 

A  brave  man,  she  told  herself  as  she  went  back 
from  the  door,  and  a  splendid  type  of  the  race. 


130 


CHAPTER  XIII 


GREGORY  ST.  VINCENT  swiftly  became  an  important 
factor  in  the  social  life  of  Dawson.  As  a  representa 
tive  of  the  Amalgamated  Press  Association,  he  had 
brought  with  him  the  best  credentials  a  powerful  in 
fluence  could  obtain,  and  over  and  beyond,  he  was 
well  qualified  socially  by  his  letters  of  introduction. 
It  developed  in  a  quiet  way  that  he  was  a  wanderer 
and  explorer  of  no  small  parts,  and  that  he  had  seen 
life  and  strife  pretty  well  all  over  the  earth's  crust. 
And  withal,  he  was  so  mild  and  modest  about  it,  that 
nobody,  not  even  among  the  men,  was  irritated  by  his 
achievements.  Incidentally,  he  ran  across  numerous 
old  acquaintances.  Jacob  Welse  he  had  met  at  St. 
Michael's  in  the  fall  of  '88,  just  prior  to  his  cross 
ing  Bering  Straits  on  the  ice.  A  month  or  so  later, 
Father  Barnum  (who  had  come  up  from  the  Lower 
River  to  take  charge  of  the  hospital)  had  met  him 
a  couple  of  hundred  miles  on  his  way  north  of  St. 
Michael's.  Captain  Alexander,  of  the  Police,  had 
rubbed  shoulders  with  him  in  the  British  Legation 
at  Peking.  And  Bettles,  another  old-timer  of  stand 
ing,  had  met  him  at  Fort  o'  Yukon  nine  years  before. 

So  Dawson,  ever  prone  to  look  askance  at  the  casual 
comer,  received  him  with  open  arms.  Especially  was 
he  a  favorite  with  the  women.  As  a  promoter  of 
pleasures  and  an  organizer  of  amusements  he  took 

131 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

the  lead,  and  it  quickly  came  to  pass  that  no  function 
was  complete  without  him.  Not  only  did  he  come  to 
help  in  the  theatricals,  but  insensibly,  and  as  a  matter  of 
course,  he  took  charge.  Frona,  as  her  friends  charged, 
was  suffering  from  a  stroke  of  Ibsen,  so  they  hit 
upon  the  "  Doll's  House,"  and  she  was  cast  for  Nora. 
Corliss,  who  was  responsible,  by  the  way,  for  the 
theatricals,  having  first  suggested  them,  was  to  take 
Torvald's  part;  but  his  interest  seemed  to  have  died 
out,  or  at  any  rate  he  begged  off  on  the  plea  of  busi 
ness  rush.  So  St.  Vincent,  without  friction,  took 
Torvald's  lines.  Corliss  did  manage  to  attend  one 
rehearsal.  It  might  have  been  that  he  had  come  tired 
from  forty  miles  with  the  dogs,  and  it  might  have 
been  that  Torvald  was  obliged  to  put  his  arm  about 
Nora  at  divers  times  and  to  toy  playfully  with  her 
ear ;  but,  one  way  or  the  other,  Corliss  never  attended 
again. 

Busy  he  certainly  was,  and  when  not  away  on  trail 
he  was  closeted  almost  continually  with  Jacob  Welse 
and  Colonel  Trethaway.  That  it  was  a  deal  of  magni 
tude  was  evidenced  by  the  fact  that  Welse's  mining 
interests  involved  alone  mounted  to  several  millions. 
Corliss  was  primarily  a  worker  and  doer,  and  on  dis 
covering  that  his  thorough  theoretical  knowledge 
lacked  practical  experience,  he  felt  put  upon  his  mettle 
and  worked  the  harder.  He  even  marvelled  at  the 
silliness  of  the  men  who  had  burdened  him  with  such 
responsibilities,  simply  because  of  his  pull,  and  he 
told  Trethaway  as  much.  But  the  colonel,  while 
recognizing  his  shortcomings,  liked  him  for  his  can 
dor,  and  admired  him  for  his  effort  and  for  the 
quickness  with  which  he  came  to  grasp  things  actuaL 

132 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

Del  Bishop,  who  had  refused  to  play  any  hand  but 
his  own,  had  gone  to  work  for  Corliss  because  by  so 
doing  he  was  enabled  to  play  his  own  hand  better. 
He.  was  practically  unfettered,  while  the  opportunities 
to  further  himself  were  greatly  increased.  Equipped 
with  the  best  of  outfits  and  a  magnificent  dog-team, 
his  task  was  mainly  to  run  the  various  creeks  and 
keep  his  eyes  and  ears  open.  A  pocket-miner,  first, 
last,  and  always,  he  was  privately  on  the  constant 
lookout  for  pockets,  which  occupation  did  not  inter 
fere  in  the  least  with  the  duty  he  owed  his  employer. 
And  as  the  days  went  by  he  stored  his  mind  with 
miscellaneous  data  concerning  the  nature  of  the  various 
placer  deposits  and  the  lay  of  the  land,  against  the 
summer  when  the  thawed  surface  and  the  running 
water  would  permit  him  to  follow  a  trace  from  creek- 
bed  to  side-slope  and  source. 

Corliss  was  a  good  employer,  paid  well,  and  con 
sidered  it  his  right  to  work  men  as  he  worked  him 
self.  Those  who  took  service  with  him  either 
strengthened  their  own  manhood  and  remained,  or 
quit  and  said  harsh  things  about  him.  Jacob  Welse 
noted  this  trait  with  appreciation,  and  he  sounded  the 
mining  engineer's  praises  continually.  Frona  heard 
and  was  gratified,  for  she  liked  the  things  her  father 
liked ;  and  she  was  more  gratified  because  the  man  was 
Corliss.  But  in  his  rush  of  business  she  saw  less  of 
him  than  formerly,  while  St.  Vincent  came  to  occupy  a 
greater  and  growing  portion  of  her  time.  His  healthful, 
optimistic  spirit  pleased  her,  while  he  corresponded 
well  to  her  idealized  natural  man  and  favorite  racial 
type.  Her  first  doubt — that  if  what  he  said  was  true 
—had  passed  away.  All  the  evidence  had  gone  coun- 

133 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE   SNOWS 

ter.  Men  who  at  first  questioned  the  truth  of  his 
wonderful  adventures  gave  in  after  hearing  him  talk. 
Those  to  any  extent  conversant  with  the  parts  of  the 
world  he  made  mention  of,  could  not  but  acknowledge 
that  he  knew  what  he  talked  about.  Young  Soley, 
representing  Bannock's  News  Syndicate,  and  Holmes 
of  the  Fairweather,  recollected  his  return  to  the  world 
in  '91,  and  the  sensation  created  thereby.  And  Sid 
Winslow,  Pacific  Coast  journalist,  had  made  his 
acquaintance  at  the  Wanderers'  Club  shortly  after  he 
landed  from  the  United  States  revenue  cutter  which 
had  brought  him  down  from  the  north.  Further,  as 
Frona  well  saw,  he  bore  the  ear-marks  of  his  expe 
riences;  they  showed  their  handiwork  in  his  whole 
outlook  on  life.  Then  the  primitive  was  strong  in 
him,  and  his  was  a  passionate  race  •  pride  which  fully 
matched  hers.  In  the  absence  of  Corliss  they  were 
much  together,  went  out  frequently  with  the  dogs,  and 
grew  to  know  each  other  thoroughly. 

All  of  which  was  not  pleasant  to  Corliss,  especially 
when  the  brief  intervals  he  could  devote  to  her  were 
usually  intruded  upon  by  the  correspondent.  Natu 
rally,  Corliss  was  not  drawn  to  him,  and  other  men, 
who  knew  or  had  heard  of  the  Opera  House  occur 
rence,  only  accepted  him  after  a  tentative  fashion. 
Trethaway  had  the  indiscretion,  once  or  twice,  to 
speak  slightingly  of  him,  but  so  fiercely  "fras  he  de 
fended  by  his  admirers  that  the  colonel  developed 
the  good  taste  to  thenceforward  keep  his  tongue 
between  his  teeth.  Once,  Corliss,  listening  to  an 
extravagant  panegyric  bursting  from  the  lips  of 
Mrs.  Schoville,  permitted  himself  the  luxury  of  an 
incredulous  smile;  but  the  quick  wave  of  color  in 

134 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

Frona's  face,  and  the  gathering  of  the  brows,  warned 
him. 

At  another  time  he  was  unwise  enough  and  angry 
enough  to  refer  to  the  Opera  House  broil.  He  was 
carried  away,  and  what  he  might  have  said  of  that 
night's  happening  would  have  redounded  neither  to 
St.  Vincent's  credit  nor  to  his  own,  had  not  Frona 
innocently  put  a  seal  upon  his  lips  ere  he  had  properly 
begun. 

"  Yes/'  she  said.  "  Mr.  St.  Vincent  told  me  about 
it.  He  met  you  for  the  first  time  that  night,  I  be 
lieve.  You  all  fought  royally  on  his  side, — you  and 
Colonel  Trethaway.  He  spoke  his  admiration  un 
reservedly  and,  to  tell  the  truth,  with  enthusiasm." 

Corliss  made  a  gesture  of  depreciation. 

"  No !  no !  From  what  he  said  you  must  have  be 
haved  splendidly.  And  I  was  most  pleased  to  hear. 
It  must  be  great  to  give  the  brute  the  rein  now  and 
again,  and  healthy,  too.  Great  for  us  who  have  wan 
dered  from  the  natural  and  softened  to  sickly  ripeness. 
Just  to  shake  off  artificiality  and  rage  up  and  down ! 
and  yet,  the  inmost  mentor,  serene  and  passionless, 
viewing  all  and  saying :  '  This  is  my  other  self.  Be 
hold!  I,  who  am  now  powerless,  am  the  power  be 
hind  and  ruleth  still!  This  other  self,  mine  ancient, 
violent,  elder  self,  rages  blindly  as  the  beast,  but  'tis 
I,  sitting  apart,  who  discern  the  merit  of  the  cause  and 
bid  him  rage  or  bid  him  cease !'  Oh,  to  be  a  man !" 

Corliss  could  not  help  a  humoring  smile,  which  put 
Frona  upon  defence  at  once. 

"  Tell  me,  Vance,  how  did  it  feel?  Have  I  not  de 
scribed  it  rightly  ?  Were  the  symptoms  yours  ?  Did  you 
not  hold  aloof  and  watch  yourself  play  the  brute?" 

135 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

He  remembered  the  momentary  daze  which  came 
when  he  stunned  the  man  with  his  fist,  and  nodded. 

"  And  pride  ?"  she  demanded,  inexorably.  "  Or 
shame?" 

"  A — a  little  of  both,  and  more  of  the  first  than  the 
second,"  he  confessed.  "  At  the  time  I  suppose  I  was 
madly  exultant;  then  afterwards  came  the  shame, 
and  I  tossed  awake  half  the  night." 

"And  finally?" 

"  Pride,  I  guess.  I  couldn't  help  it,  couldn't  down 
it.  I  awoke  in  the  morning  feeling  as  though  I  had 
won  my  spurs.  In  a  subconscious  way  I  was  inordi 
nately  proud  of  myself,  and  time  and  again,  mentally, 
I  caught  myself  throwing  chests.  Then  came  the 
shame  again,  and  I  tried  to  reason  back  my  self- 
respect.  And  last  of  all,  pride.  The  fight  was  fair 
and  open.  It  was  none  of  my  seeking.  I  was  forced 
into  it  by  the  best  of  motives.  I  am  not  sorry,  and  I 
would  repeat  it  if  necessary." 

"And  rightly  so."  Frona's  eyes  were  sparkling. 
"And  how  did  Mr.  St.  Vincent  acquit  himself?" 

"  He  ?  .  .  .  .  Oh,  I  suppose  all  right,  creditably. 
I  was  too  busy  watching  my  other  self  to  take 
notice." 

"  But  he  saw  you." 

"  Most  likely  so.  I  acknowledge  my  negligence.  I 
should  have  done  better,  the  chances  are,  had  I 
thought  it  would  have  been  of  interest  to  you — 
pardon  me,  just  my  bungling  wit.  The  truth  is,  I 
was  too  much  of  a  greenhorn  to  hold  my  own  and 
spare  glances  on  my  neighbors." 

So  Corliss  went  away,  glad  that  he  had  not  spoken, 
and  keenly  appreciating  St.  Vincent's  craft  whereby  he 

136 


A   DAUGHTER   OF  THE   SNOWS 

had  so  adroitly  forestalled  adverse  comment  by  tell 
ing  the  story  in  his  own  modest,  self-effacing  way. 

Two  men  and  a  woman !  The  most  potent  trinity 
of  factors  in  the  creating  of  human  pathos  and 
tragedy!  As  ever  in  the  history  of  man,  since  the 
first  father  dropped  down  from  his  arboreal  home  and 
walked  upright,  so  at  Dawson.  Necessarily,  there 
were  minor  factors,  not  least  among  which  was  Del 
Bishop,  who,  in  his  aggressive  way,  stepped  in  and 
accelerated  things.  This  came  about  in  a  trail-camp 
on  the  way  to  Miller  Creek,  where  Corliss  was  bent 
on  gathering  in  a  large  number  of  low-grade  claims 
which  could  only  be  worked  profitably  on  a  large  scale. 

"  I'll  not  be  wastin'  candles  when  I  make  a  strike, 
savve!"  the  pocket-miner  remarked  savagely  to  the 
coffee,  which  he  was  settling  with  a  chunk  of  ice. 
"  Not  on  your  life,  I  guess  rather  not !" 

"  Kerosene  ?"  Corliss  queried,  running  a  piece  of 
bacon-rind  round  the  frying-pan  and  pouring  in  the 
batter. 

"  Kerosene,  hell !  You  won't  see  my  trail  for  smoke 
when  I  get  a  gait  on  for  God's  country,  my  wad  in  my 
poke  and  the  sunshine  in  my  eyes.  Say!  How'd  a 
good  juicy  tenderloin  strike  you  just  now,  green 
onions,  fried  potatoes,  and  fixin's  on  the  side?  S'help 
me,  that's  the  first  proposition  I'll  hump  myself  up 
against.  Then  a  general  whoop-la!  for  a  week — 
Seattle  or  'Frisco,  I  don't  care  a  rap  which,  and 
thai " 

"  Out  of  money  and  after  a  job." 

"  Not  on  your  family  tree !"  Bishop  roared. 
"  Cache  my  sack  before  I  go  on  the  tear,  sure  pop, 

137 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE    SNOWS 

and  then,  afterwards,  Southern  California.  Many's 
the  day  I've  had  my  eye  on  a  peach  of  a  fruit  farm 
down  there — forty  thousand'll  buy  it.  No  more 
workin'  for  grub-stakes  and  the  like.  Figured  it 
out  long  ago, — hired  men  to  work  the  ranch,  a 
manager  to  run  it,  and  me  ownin'  the  game  and 
livin'  off  the  percentage.  A  stable  with  always  a 
couple  of  bronchos  handy;  handy  to  slap  the  packs 
and  saddles  on  and  be  off  and  away  whenever  the 
fever  for  chasin'  pockets  came  over  me.  Great  pocket 
country  down  there,  to  the  east  and  along  the  desert." 

"  And  no  house  on  the  ranch  ?" 

"  Cert !  With  sweet  peas  growin'  up  the  sides,  and 
in  back  a  patch  for  vegetables — string-beans  and 
spinach  and  radishes,  cucumbers  and  'sparagrass, 
turnips,  carrots,  cabbage,  and  such.  And  a  woman 
inside  to  draw  me  back  when  I  get  to  runnin'  loco 
after  the  pockets.  Say,  you  know  all  about  rninin'. 
Did  you  ever  go  snoozin'  round  after  pockets?  No? 
Then  just  steer  clear.  They're  worse  than  whiskey, 
horses,  or  cards.  Women,  when  they  come  after 
wards,  ain't  in  it.  Whenever  you  get  a  hankerin' 
after  pockets,  go  right  off  and  get  married.  It's  the 
only  thing'll  save  you ;  and  even  then,  mebbe,  it  won't. 
I  ought  'a'  done  it  years  ago.  I  might  'a'  made  some 
thing  of  myself  if  I  had.  Jerusalem !  the  jobs  I've 
jumped  and  the  good  things  chucked  in  my  time, 
just  because  of  pockets !  Say,  Corliss,  you  want  to 
get  married,  you  do,  and  right  off.  I'm  tellin'  you 
straight.  Take  warnin'  from  me  and  don't  stay  sii'gle 
any  longer  than  God'll  let  you,  sure!" 

Corliss  laughed. 

"  Sure,  I  mean  it.  I'm  older'n  you,  and  know  what 
138 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

I'm  talkin'.  Now  there's  a  bit  of  a  thing  down  in 
Dawson  I'd  like  to  see  you  get  your  hands  on.  You 
was  made  for  each  other,  both  of  you." 

Corliss  was  past  the  stage  when  he  would  have 
treated  Bishop's  meddling  as  an  impertinence.  The 
trail,  which  turns  men  into  the  same  blankets  and 
makes  them  brothers,  was  the  great  leveller  of  dis 
tinctions,  as  he  had  come  to  learn.  So  he  flopped  a 
flapjack  and  held  his  tongue. 

"  Why  don't  you  waltz  in  and  win?"  Del  demanded, 
insistently.  "  Don't  you  cotton  to  her  ?  I  know  you 
do,  or  you  wouldn't  come  back  to  cabin,  after  bein' 
with  her,  a-walkin'-like  on  air.  Better  waltz  in  while 
you  got  a  chance.  Why,  there  was  Emmy,  a  tidy  bit 
of  flesh  as  women  go,  and  we  took  to  each  other  on 
the  jump.  But  I  kept  a-chasin'  pockets  and  chasm* 
pockets,  and  delayin'.  And  then  a  big  black  lumber 
man,  a  Kanuck,  began  sidlin'  up  to  her,  and  I  made  up 
my  mind  to  speak — only  I  went  off  after  one  more 
pocket,  just  one  more,  and  when  I  got  back  she  was 
Mrs.  Somebody  Else. 

"  So  take  warnin'.  There's  that  writer-guy,  that 
skunk  I  poked  outside  the  Opera  House.  He's 
walkin*  right  in  and  gettin'  thick;  and  here's  you, 
just  like  me,  a-racin'  round  all  creation  and  lettin' 
matrimony  slide.  Mark  my  words,  Corliss!  Some 
fine  frost  you'll  come  slippin'  into  camp  and  find  'em 
housekeepin'.  Sure!  With  nothin'  left  for  you  in 
life  but  pocketing!" 

The  picture  was  so  unpleasant  that  Corliss  turned 
surly  and  ordered  him  to  shut  up. 

"Who?  Me?"  Del  asked  so  aggrievedly  that  Cor 
liss  laughed. 

139 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE    SNOWS 

"  What  would  you  do,  then  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Me  ?  In  all  kindness  I'll  tell  you.  As  soon  as 
you  get  back  you  go  and  see  her.  Make  dates  with 
her  ahead  till  you  got  to  put  'em  on  paper  to  remem 
ber  'em  all.  Get  a  cinch  on  her  spare  time  ahead  so 
as  to  shut  the  other  fellow  out.  Don't  get  down  in 
the  dirt  to  her, — she's  not  that  kind, — but  don't  be 
too  high  and  mighty,  neither.  Just  so-so — savve? 
And  then,  some  time  when  you  see  she's  feelin'  good, 
and  smilin'  at  you  in  that  way  of  hers,  why  up  and 
call  her  hand.  Of  course  I  can't  say  what  the  show- 
down'll  be.  That's  for  you  to  find  out.  But  don't 
hold  off  too  long  about  it.  Better  married  early  than 
never.  And  if  that  writer-guy  shoves  in,  poke  him 
in  the  breadbasket — hard!  That'll  settle  him  plenty. 
Better  still,  take  him  off  to  one  side  and  talk  to  him/ 
Tell'm  you're  a  bad  man,  and  that  you  staked  that 
claim  before  he  was  dry  behind  the  ears,  and  that  if 
he  conies  nosin'  around  tryin'  to  file  on  it  you'll  beat 
his  head  off." 

Bishop  got  up,  stretched,  and  went  outside  to  feed 
the  dogs.  "Don't  forget  to  beat  his  head  off,"  he 
called  back.  "  And  if  you're  squeamish  about  it,  just 
call  on  me.  I  won't  keep  'm  waitin'  long." 


140 


CHAPTER  XIV 


"  AH,  the  salt  water,  Miss  Welse,  the  strong  salt 
water  and  the  big  waves  and  the  heavy  boats  for 
smooth  or  rough — that  I  know.  But  the  fresh  water, 
and  the  little  canoes,  egg-shells,  fairy  bubbles;  a  big 
breath,  a  sigh,  a  heart-pulse  too  much,  and  pouf! 
over  you  go;  not  so,  that  I  do  not  know."  Baron 
Courbertin  smiled  self-commiseratingly  and  went  on. 
"  But  it  is  delightful,  magnificent.  I  have  watched 
and  envied.  Some  day  I  shall  learn." 

"  It  is  not  so  difficult,"  St.  Vincent  interposed.  "  Is 
it,  Miss  Welse?  Just  a  sure  and  delicate  poise  of 
mind  and  body " 

"  Like  the  tight-rope  dancer  ?" 

"  Oh,  you  are  incorrigible,"  Frona  laughed.  "  I  feel 
certain  that  you  know  as  much  about  canoes  as  we." 

"  And  you  know  ? — a  woman  ?"  Cosmopolitan  as 
the  Frenchman  was,  the  independence  and  ability  for 
doing  of  the  Yankee  women  were  a  perpetual  wonder 
to  him.  "How?" 

"  When  I  was  a  very  little  girl,  at  Dyea,  among  the 
Indians.  But  next  spring,  after  the  river  breaks,  we'll 
give  you  your  first  lessons,  Mr.  St.  Vincent  and  I. 
So  you  see,  you  will  return  to  civilization  with  accom 
plishments.  And  you  will  surely  love  it." 

"Under  such  charming  tutorship,"  he  murmured, 
gallantly.  "  But  you,  Mr.  St.  Vincent,  do  you  think 

141 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE    SNOWS 

I  shall  be  so  successful  that  I  may  come  to  love  it? 
Do  you  love  it? — you,  who  stand  always  in  the  back 
ground,  sparing  of  speech,  inscrutable,  as  though  able 
but  unwilling  to  speak  from  out  the  eternal  wisdom 
of  a  vast  experience."  The  baron  turned  quickly  to 
Frona.  "  We  are  old  friends,  did  I  not  tell  you  ?  So 
I  may,  what  you  Americans  call,  josh  with  him.  Is  it 
not  so,  Mr.  St.  Vincenf  ?" 

Gregory  nodded,  and  Frona  said,  "  I  am  sure  you 
met  at  the  ends  of  the  earth  somewhere." 

"  Yokohama,"  St.  Vincent  cut  in  shortly ;  "  eleven 
years  ago,  in  cherry-blossom  time.  But  Baron  Cour- 
foertin  does  me  an  injustice,  which  stings,  unhappily, 
because  it  is  not  true.  I  am  afraid,  when  I  get  started, 
that  I  talk  too  much  about  myself." 

"A  martyr  to  your  friends,"  Frona  conciliated. 
"  And  such  a  teller  of  good  tales  that  your  friends 
cannot  forbear  imposing  upon  you." 

"  Then  tell  us  a  canoe  story,"  the  baron  begged. 
"  A  good  one !  A — what  you  Yankees  call — a  hair- 
raiser!" 

They  drew  up  to  Mrs.  Schoville's  fat  wood-burn 
ing  stove,  and  St.  Vincent  told  of  the  great  whirlpool 
in  the  Box  Canyon,  of  the  terrible  corkscrew  in  the 
mane  of  the  White  Horse  Rapids,  and  of  his  cowardly 
comrade,  who,  walking  around,  had  left  him  to  go 
through  alone — nine  years  before  when  the  Yukon 
was  virgin. 

Half  an  hour  later  Mrs.  Schoville  bustled  in,  with 
Corliss  in  her  wake. 

"  That  hill !  The  last  of  my  breath !"  she  gasped, 
pulling  off  her  mittens.  "  Never  saw  such  luck !"  she 
declared  none  the  less  vehemently  the  next  moment. 

142 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

"  This  play  will  never  come  off !  I  never  shall  be 
Mrs.  Linden!  How  can  I?  Krogstad's  gone  on  a 
stampede  to  Indian  River,  and  no  one  knows  when 
he'll  be  back!  Krogstad"  (to  Corliss)  "is  Mr.  May- 
brick,  you  know.  And  Mrs.  Alexander  has  the  neu 
ralgia  and  can't  stir  out.  So  there's  no  rehearsal  to 
day,  that's  flat!"  She  attitudinized  dramatically: 
" '  Yes,  in  my  first  terror!  But  a  day  has  passed, 
and  in  that  day  I  have  seen  incredible  things  in  this 
house!  Helmer  must  know  everything!  There  must 
be  an  end  to  this  unhappy  secret!  O  Krogstad,  you 
need  me,  and  I — I  need  you'  and  you  are  over  on  the 
Indian  River  making  sour-dough  bread,  and  I  shall 
never  see  you  more !" 

They  clapped  their  applause. 

"  My  only  reward  for  venturing  out  and  keeping 
you  all  waiting  was  my  meeting  with  this  ridiculous 
fellow.''*  She  shoved  Corliss  forward.  "  Oh !  you  have 
not  met!  Baron  Courbertin,  Mr.  Corliss.  If  you 
strike  it  rich,  baron,  I  advise  you  to  sell  to  Mr.  Cor 
liss.  He  has  the  money-bags  of  Croesus,  and  will  buy 
anything  so  long  as  the  title  is  good.  And  if  you 
don't  strike,  sell  anyway.  He's  a  professional  philan 
thropist,  you  know. 

"  But  would  you  believe  it !"  (addressing  the  general 
group)  "  this  ridiculous  fellow  kindly  offered  to  see 
me  up  the  hill  and  gossip  along  the  way — gossip! 
though  he  refused  point-blank  to  come  in  and  watch 
the  rehearsal.  But  when  he  found  there  wasn't  to  be 
any,  he  changed  about  like  a  weather-vane.  So  here 
he  is,  claiming  to  have  been  away  to  Miller  Creek; 
but  between  ourselves  there  is  no  telling  what  dark 

deeds " 

143 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE   SNOWS 

"  Dark  deeds !  Look !"  Frona  broke  in,  pointing  to 
the  tip  of  an  amber  mouth-piece  which  projected  from 
Vance's  outside  breast-pocket.  "  A  pipe !  My  con 
gratulations." 

She  held  out  her  hand  and  he  shook  good-humoredly. 

"  All  Del's  fault,"  he  laughed.  "  When  I  go  before 
the  great  white  throne,  it  is  he  who  shall  stand  forth 
and  be  responsible  for  that  particular  sin." 

"  An  improvement,  nevertheless,"  she  argued.  "  All 
that  is  wanting  is  a  good  round  swear-word  now  and 
again." 

"  Oh,  I  assure  you  I  am  not  unlearned,"  he  re 
torted.  "  No  man  can  drive  dogs  else.  I  can  swear 
from  hell  to  breakfast,  by  damn,  and  back  again,  if 
you  will  permit  me,  to  the  last  link  of  perdition.  By 
the  bones  of  Pharaoh  and  the  blood  of  Judas,  for  in 
stance,  are  fairly  efficacious  with  a  string  of  huskies ; 
but  the  best  of  my  dog-driving  nomenclature,  more's 
the  pity,  women  cannot  stand.  I  promise  you,  how 
ever,  in  spite  of  hell  and  high  water " 

"  Oh !  Oh !"  Mrs.  Schoville  screamed,  thrusting 
her  fingers  into  her  ears. 

"  Madame,"  Baron  Courbertin  spoke  up  gravely, 
"  it  is  a  fact,  a  lamentable  fact,  that  the  dogs  of  the 
north  are  responsible  for  more  men's  souls  than  all 
jother  causes  put  together.  Is  it  not  so?  I  leave  it 
to  the  gentlemen." 

Both  Corliss  and  St.  Vincent  solemnly  agreed,  and 
proceeded  to  detonate  the  lady  by  swapping  heart 
rending  and  apposite  dog  tales. 

St.  Vincent  and  the  baron  remained  behind  to  take 
lunch  with  the  Gold  Commissioner's  wife,  leaving 

144 


AND  AS  HE  LOOKED  UPON  HER  THE  MIGHTY 
PAST  ROSE  BEFORE  HIM 


A   DAUGHTER   OF  THE   SNOWS 

Frona  and  Corliss  to  go  down  the  hill  together.  Silently 
consenting,  as  though  to  prolong  the  descent,  they 
swerved  to  the  right,  cutting  transversely  the  myriad 
foot-paths  and  sled  roads  which  led  down  into  the 
town.  It  was  a  mid-December  day,  clear  and  cold; 
and  the  hesitant  high-noon  sun,  having  laboriously 
dragged  its  pale  orb  up  from  behind  the  southern 
land-rim,  balked  at  the  great  climb  to  the  zenith,  and 
began  its  shamefaced  slide  back  beneath  the  earth. 
Its  oblique  rays  refracted  from  the  floating  frost 
particles  till  the  air  was  filled  with  glittering  jewel- 
dust — resplendent,  blazing,  flashing  light  and  fire,  but 
cold  as  outer  space. 

They  passed  down  through  the  scintillant,  magical 
sheen,  their  moccasins  rhythmically  crunching  the 
snow  and  their  breaths  wreathing  mysteriously  from 
their  lips  in  sprayed  opalescence.  Neither  spoke,  nor 
cared  to  speak,  so  wonderful  was  it  all.  At  their  feet, 
under  the  great  vault  of  heaven,  a  speck  in  the  midst 
of  the  white  vastness,  huddled  the  golden  city — puny 
and  sordid,  feebly  protesting  against  immensity,  man's 
challenge  to  the  infinite ! 

Calls  of  men  and  cries  of  encouragement  came 
sharply  to  them  from  close  at  hand,  and  they  halted. 
There  was  an  eager  yelping,  a  scratching  of  feet,  and 
a  string  of  ice-rimed  wolf-dogs,  with  hot-lolling 
tongues  and  dripping  jaws,  pulled  up  the  slope  and 
turned  into  the  path  ahead  of  them.  On  the  sled,  a 
long  and  narrow  box  of  rough-sawed  spruce  told  the 
nature  of  the  freight.  Two  dog-drivers,  a  woman 
walking  blindly,  and  a  black-robed  priest,  made  up 
the  funeral  cortege.  A  few  paces  farther  on  the  dogs 
were  again  put  against  the  steep,  and  with  whine  and 
10  145 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

shout  and  clatter  the  unheeding  clay  was  hauled  on 
and  upward  to  its  ice-hewn  hillside  chamber. 

"  A  zone-conqueror,"  Frona  broke  voice. 

Corliss  found  his  thought  following  hers,  and  an 
swered,  "  These  battlers  of  frost  and  fighters  of 
hunger!  I  can  understand  how  the  dominant  races 
have  come  down  out  of  the  north  to  empire.  Strong 
to  venture,  strong  to  endure,  with  infinite  faith  and 
infinite  patience,  is  it  to  be  wondered  at?" 

Frona  glanced  at  him  in  eloquent  silence. 

'  We  smote  with  our  swords' "  he  chanted ;  "'to 
me  it  was  a  joy  like  having  my  bright  bride  by  me  on 
the  couch/  '  1  have  marched  with  my  bloody  sword, 
and  the  raven  has  followed  me.  Furiously  we  fought; 
the  lire  passed  over  the  dwellings  of  men;  we  slept  in 
the  blood  of  those  who  kept  the  gates.' " 

"  But  do  you  feel  it,  Vance  ?"  she  cried,  her  hand 
flashing  out  and  resting  on  his  arm. 

"  I  begin  to  feel,  I  think.  The  north  has  taught  me, 
is  teaching  me.  The  old  things  come  back  with  new 
significance.  Yet  I  do  not  know.  It  seems  a  tremen 
dous  egotism,  a  magnificent  dream." 

"  But  you  are  not  a  negro  or  a  Mongol,  nor  are  you 
descended  from  the  negro  or  Mongol." 

"  Yes,"  he  considered.  "  I  am  my  father's  son,  and 
the  line  goes  back  to  the  sea-kings  who  never  slept 
under  the  smoky  rafters  of  a  roof  or  drained  the  ale- 
horn  by  inhabited  hearth.  There  must  be  a  reason 
for  the  dead-status  of  the  black,  a  reason  for  the  Teu 
ton  spreading  over  the  earth  as  no  other  race  has  ever 
spread.  There  must  be  something  in  race  heredity, 
else  I  would  not  leap  at  the  summons." 

"A  great  race,  Vance.    Half  of  the  earth  its  heri- 
146 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

tage,  and  all  of  the  sea!  And  in  threescore  genera 
tions  it  has  achieved  it  all — think  of  it!  threescore 
generations! — and  to-day  it  reaches  out  wider-armed 
than  ever.  The  smiter  and  the  destroyer  among  na 
tions  !  the  builder  and  the  law-giver !  Oh,  Vance,  my 
love  is  passionate,  but  God  will  forgive,  for  it  is  good. 
A  great  race,  greatly  conceived;  and  if  to  perish, 
greatly  to  perish !  Don't  you  remember : 

" '  Trembles  Yggdrasil's  ash  yet  standing;  groans 
that  ancient  tree,  and  the  Jotun  Loki  is  loosed.  The 
shadows  groan  on  the  ways  of  Hel,  until  the  fire  of 
Surt  has  consumed  the  tree.  Hrym  steers  from  the 
east,  the  waters  rise,  the  mundane  snake  is  coiled  in 
jotun-rage.  The  worm  beats  the  water,  and  the  eagle 
screams;  the  pale  of  beak  tears  carcases;  the  ship 
Naglfar  is  loosed.  Surt  from  the  south  comes  with 
flickering  flame;  shines  from  his  sword  the  Val-god's 
sun:  " 

Swaying  there  like  a  furred  Valkyrie  above  the 
final  carnage  of  men  and  gods,  she  touched  his  imag 
ination,  and  the  blood  surged  exultingly  along  un 
known  channels,  thrilling  and  uplifting. 

'  The  stony  hills  are  dashed  together,  the  giant 
esses  totter;  men  tread  the  path  of  Hel,  and  heaven 
is  cloven.  The  sun  darkens,  earth  in  ocean  sinks,  fall 
from  heaven  the  bright  stars,  fire's  breath  assails  the 
all-nourishing  tree,  towering  fire  plays  against  heaven 
itself:  " 

Outlined  against  the  blazing  air,  her  brows  and 
lashes  white  with  frost,  the  jewel-dust  striking  and 
flashing  against  hair  and  face,  and  the  south-sun 
lighting  her  with  a  great  redness,  the  man  saw  her 
as  the  genius  of  the  race.  The  traditions  of  the  blood 

i47 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE    SNOWS 

laid  hold  of  him,  and  he  felt  strangely  at  one  with 
the  white-skinned,  yellow-haired  giants  of  the  younger 
world.  And  as  he  looked  upon  her  the  mighty  past 
rose  before  him,  and  the  caverns  of  his  being  resounded 
with  the  shock  and  tumult  of  forgotten  battles.  With 
bellowing  of  storm-winds  and  crash  of  smoking  North 
Sea  waves,  he  saw  the  sharp-beaked  fighting  galleys, 
and  the  sea-flung  Northmen,  great-muscled,  deep- 
chested,  sprung  from  the  elements,  men  of  sword  and 
sweep,  marauders  and  scourgers  of  the  warm  south 
lands  !  The  din  of  twenty  centuries  of  battle  was 
roaring  in  his  ear,  and  the  clamor  for  return  to  type 
strong  upon  him.  He  seized  her  hands  passionately. 

"  Be  the  bright  bride  by  me,  Frona !  Be  the  bright 
bride  by  me  on  the  couch!" 

She  started  and  looked  down  at  him,  questioningly. 
Then  the  import  of  it  reached  her  and  she  involun 
tarily  drew  back.  The  sun  shot  a  last  failing  flicker 
'/  across  the  earth  and  vanished.  The  fire  went  out  of 
the  air,  and  the  day  darkened.  Far  above,  the  hearse- 
dogs  howled  mournfully. 

"  No,"  he  interrupted,  as  words  formed  on  her  lips. 
"  Do  not  speak.  I  know  my  answer,  your  answer  .  . 
.  .  now  ....  I  was  a  fool  ....  Come,  let  us 
go  down." 

It  was  not  until  they  had  left  the  mountain  behind 
them,  crossed  the  flat,  and  come  out  on  the  river  by 
the  saw-mill,  that  the  bustle  and  skurry  of  human  life 
made  it  seem  possible  for  them  to  speak.  Corliss  had 
walked  with  his  eyes  moodily  bent  to  the  ground; 
and  Frona,  with  head  erect  and  looking  everywhere, 
stealing  an  occasional  glance  to  his  face.  Where  the 
road  rose  over  the  log  run-way  of  the  mill  the  foot- 

148 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE    SNOWS 

ing  was  slippery,  and  catching  at  her  to  save  her  from 
falling,  their  eyes  met. 

"  I — I  am  grieved,"  she  hesitated.  And  then,  in  un 
conscious  self-defence,  "  It  was  so  ....  I  had  not 
expected  it — just  then." 

"  Else  you  would  have  prevented  ?"  he  asked,  bit 
terly. 

"  Yes.  I  think  I  should  have.  I  did  not  wisH  to  give 
you  pain " 

"  Then  you  expected  it,  some  time  ?" 

"  And  feared  it.  But  I  had  hoped  ....  I  ..... 
Vance,  I  did  not  come  into  the  Klondike  to  get4  mar 
ried.  I  liked  you  at  the  beginning,  and  I  have  liked 
you  more  and  more, — never  so  much  as  to-day, — 
but " 

"  But  you  had  never  looked  upon  me  in  the  light  of 
a  possible  husband — that  is  what  you  are  trying  to 
say." 

As  he  spoke,  he  looked  at  her  sidewise,  and  sharply ; 
and  when  her  eyes  met  his  with  the  same  old  frank 
ness,  the  thought  of  losing  her  maddened  him. 

"  But  I  have,"  she  answered  at  once.  "  I  have 
looked  upon  you  in  that  light,  but  somehow  it  was  not 
convincing.  Why,  I  do  not  know.  There  was  so  much 
I  found  to  like  in  you,  so  much " 

He  tried  to  stop  her  with  a  dissenting  gesture,  but 
she  went  on. 

"  So  much  to  admire.  There  was  all  the  warmth 
of  friendship,  and  closer  friendship, — a  growing  cama 
raderie,  in  fact ;  but  nothing  more.  Though  I  did  not 
wish  more,  I  should  have  welcomed  it  had  it  come." 

"  As  one  welcomes  the  unwelcome  guest." 

"  Why  won't  you  help  me,  Vance,  instead  of  making 
149 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE   SNOWS 

it  harder?  It  is  hard  on  you,  surely,  but  do  you 
imagine  that  I  am  enjoying  it?  I  feel  because  of  your 
pain,  and,  further,  I  know  when  I  refuse  a  dear  friend 
for  a  lover  the  dear  friend  goes  from  me.  I  do  not 
part  with  friends  lightly." 

"  I  see ;  doubly  bankrupt ;  friend  and  lover  both. 
But  they  are  easily  replaced.  I  fancy  I  was  half  lost 
before  I  spoke.  Had  I  remained  silent,  it  would  have 
been  the  same  anyway.  Time  softens;  new  associa 
tions,  new  thoughts  and  faces;  men  with  marvellous 
adventures " 

She  stopped  him  abruptly. 

"  It  is  useless,  Vance,  no  matter  what  you  may  say. 
I  shall  not  quarrel  with  you.  I  can  understand  how 
you  feel " 

"  If  I  am  quarrelsome,  then  I  had  better  leave  you." 
He  halted  suddenly,  and  she  stood  beside  him.  "  Here 
comes  Dave  Harney.  He  will  see  you  home.  It's  only 
a  step." 

"  You  are  doing  neither  yourself  nor  me  kindness." 
She  spoke  with  final  firmness.  "  I  decline  to  consider 
this  the  end.  We  are  too  close  to  it  to  understand  it 
fairly.  You  must  come  and  see  me  when  we  are  both 
calmer.  I  refuse  to  be  treated  in  this  fashion.  It  is 
childish  of  you."  She  shot  a  hasty  glance  at  the 
approaching  Eldorado  king.  "  I  do  not  think  I  de 
serve  it  at  your  hands.  I  refuse  to  lose  you  as  a 
friend.  And  I  insist  that  you  come  and  see  me,  that 
things  remain  on  the  old  footing." 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  Hello !"  Dave  Harney  touched  his  cap  and  slowed 
down  loose- jointedly.  "  Sorry  you  didn't  take  my  tip? 
Dogs  gone  up  a  dollar  a  pound  since  yesterday,  and 

150 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

still  a-whoopin'.  Good-afternoon,  Miss  Frona,  and 
Mr.  Corliss.  Coin'  my  way?" 

"  Miss  Welse  is."  Corliss  touched  the  visor  of  his 
cap  and  half-turned  on  his  heel. 

"  Where're  you  off  to  ?"  Dave  demanded. 

"  Got  an  appointment,"  he  lied. 

"  Remember,"  Frona  called  to  him,  "  you  must  come 
and  see  me." 

"  Too  busy,  I'm  afraid,  just  now.  Good-by.  So 
long,  Dave." 

"  Jemimy !"  Dave  remarked,  staring  after  him;  "  but 
he's  a  hustler.  Always  busy — with  big  things,  too. 
Wonder  why  he  didn't  go  in  for  dogs?" 


151 


CHAPTER  XV 


BUT  Corliss  did  go  back  to  see  her,  and  before  the 
day  was  out.  A  little  bitter  self-communion  had  not 
taken  long  to  show  him  his  childishness.  The  sting 
of  loss  was  hard  enough,  but  the  thought,  now  they 
could  be  nothing  to  each  other,  that  her  last  impres 
sions  of  him  should  be  bad,  hurt  almost  as  much, 
and  in  a  way,  even  more.  And  further,  putting  all 
to  the  side,  he  was  really  ashamed.  He  had  thought 
that  he  could  have  taken  such  a  disappointment  more 
manfully,  especially  since  in  advance  he  had  not  been 
at  all  sure  of  his  footing. 

So  he  called  upon  her,  walked  with  her  up  to  the 
Barracks,  and  on  the  way,  with  her  help,  managed  to 
soften  the  awkwardness  which  the  morning  had  left 
between  them.  He  talked  reasonably  and  meekly, 
which  she  countenanced,  and  would  have  apologized 
roundly  had  she  not  prevented  him. 

"Not  the  slightest  bit  of  blame  attaches  to  you," 
she  said.  "  Had  I  been  in  your  place,  I  should  prob 
ably  have  done  the  same  and  behaved  much  more  out 
rageously.  For  you  were  outrageous,  you  know." 

"  But  had  you  been  in  my  place,  and  I  in  yours," 
he  answered,  with  a  weak  attempt  at  humor,  "  there 
would  have  been  no  need." 

She  smiled,  glad  that  he  was  feeling  less  strongly 
about  it. 

152 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

"  But,  unhappily,  our  social  wisdom  does  not  per 
mit  such  a  reversal,"  he  added,  more  with  a  desire  to 
be  saying  something. 

"Ah!"  she  laughed.  "  There's  where  my  Jesuit 
ism  comes  in.  I  can  rise  above  our  social  wisdom." 

"You  don't  mean  to  say, — that ?" 

"  There,  shocked  as  usual !  No,  I  could  not  be  so 
crude  as  to  speak  outright,  but  I  might  finesse,  as  you 
whist-players  say.  Accomplish  the  same  end,  only  with 
greater  delicacy.  After  all,  a  distinction  without  a 
difference." 

"  Could  you  ?"  he  asked. 

"  I  know  I  could, — if  the  occasion  demanded.  I  am 
not  one  to  let  what  I  might  deem  life-happiness 
slip  from  me  without  a  struggle.  That"  (judicially) 
"  occurs  only  in  books  and  among  sentimentalists.  As 
my  father  always  says,  I  belong  to  the  strugglers  and 
fighters.  That  which  appeared  to  me  great  and  sacred, 
that  would  I  battle  for,  though  I  brought  heaven 
tumbling  about  my  ears." 

"  You  have  made  me  very  happy,  Vance,"  she  said 
at  parting  by  the  Barracks  gates.  "  And  things  shall 
go  along  in  the  same  old, way.  And  mind,  not  a  bit 
less  of  you  than  formerly;  but,  rather,  much  more." 

But  Corliss,  after  several  perfunctory  visits,  for 
got  the  way  which  led  to  Jacob  Welse's  home,  and 
applied  himself  savagely  to  his  work.  He  even  had 
the  hypocrisy,  at  times,  to  felicitate  himself  upon  his 
escape,  and  to  draw  bleak  fireside  pictures  of  the 
dismal  future  which  would  have  been  had  he  and 
Frona  incompatibly  mated.  But  this  was  only  at 
times.  As  a  rule,  the  thought  of  her  made  him 

153 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

hungry,  in  a  way  akin  to  physical  hunger;  and  the 
one  thing  he  found  to  overcome  it  was  hard  work' 
and  plenty  of  it.  But  even  then,  what-of  -trail  and 
creek,  and  camp  and  survey,  he  could  only  get  away 
from  her  in  his  waking  hours.  In  his  sleep  he  was 
ignobly  conquered,  and  Del  Bishop,  who  was  with  him 
much,  studied  his  restlessness  and  gave  a  ready  ear 
to  his  mumbled  words. 

The  pocket-miner  put  two  and  two  together,  and 
made  a  correct  induction  from  the  different  little 
things  which  came  under  his  notice.  But  this  did  not 
require  any  great  astuteness.  The  simple  fact  that  he 
no  longer  called  on  Frona  was  sufficient  evidence  of 
an  unprospering  suit.  But  Del  went  a  step  farther,, 
and  drew  the  corollary  that  St.  Vincent  was  the  cause 
of  it  all.  Several  times  he  had  seen  the  correspondent 
with  Frona,  going  one  place  and  another,  and  was 
duly  incensed  thereat. 

"  I'll  fix  'm  yet !"  he  muttered  in  camp  one  evening, 
over  on  Gold  Bottom. 

"  Whom  ?"  Corliss  queried. 

"  Who  ?    That  newspaper  man,  that's  who !" 

"What  for?" 

"  Aw — general  principles.  Why'n't  you  let  me 
paste  'm  that  night  at  the  Opera  House?" 

Corliss  laughed  at  the  recollection.  "  Why  did  you 
strike  him,  Del?" 

"  General  principles,"  Del  snapped  back  and  shut 
up. 

But  Del  Bishop,  for  all  his  punitive  spirit,  did  not 
neglect  the  main  chance,  and  on  the  return  trip,  when 
they  came  to  the  forks  of  Eldorado  and  Bonanza,  he 
called  a  halt. 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE   SNOWS 


"  Say,  Corliss,"  he  began  at  once,  "  d'you  know 
what  a  hunch  is?"  His  employer  nodded  his  com 
prehension.  "  Well,  I've  got  one.  I  ain't  never  asked 
favors  of  you  before,  but  this  once  I  want  you  to  lay 
over  here  till  to-morrow.  Seems  to  me  my  fruit  ranch 
is  'most  in  sight.  I  can  damn  near  smell  the  oranges 
a-ripenin'." 

"  Certainly,"  Corliss  agreed.  "  But  better  still,  I'll 
run  on  down  to  Dawson,  and  you  can  come  in  when 
you've  finished  hunching." 

"  Say!"  Del  objected.  "  I  said  it  was  a  hunch;  and 
I  want  to  ring  you  in  on  it,  savve?  You're  all  right, 
and  you've  learned  a  hell  of  a  lot  out  of  books.  You're 
a  regular  high-roller  when  it  comes  to  the  laboratory, 
and  all  that ;  but  it  takes  yours  truly  to  get  down  and 
read  the  face  of  nature  without  spectacles.  Now  I've 
g'ot  a  theory " 

Corliss  threw  up  his  hands  in  affected  dismay,  and 
the  pocket-miner  began  to  grow  angry. 

"  That's  right !  Laugh !  But  it's  built  right  up  on 
your  own  pet  theory  of  erosion  and  changed  river 
beds.  And  I  didn't  pocket  among  the  Mexicans  two 
years  for  nothin*.  Where  d'you  s'pose  this  Eldorado 
gold  came  from? — rough,  and  no  signs  of  washin'? 
Eh?  There's  where  you  need  your  spectacles.  Books 
have  made  you  short-sighted.  But  never  mind  how. 
'Tisn't  exactly  pockets,  neither,  but  I  know  what  I'm 
speiling  about.  I  ain't  been  keepin'  tab  on  traces  for 
my  health.  I  can  tell  you  mining  sharps  more  about 
the  lay  of  Eldorado  Creek  in  one  minute  than  you 
could  figure  out  in  a  month  of  Sundays.  But  never 
mind,  no  offence.  You  lay  over  with  me  till  to-mor 
row,  and  you  can  buy  a  ranch  'longside  of  mine,  sure." 

155 


=  el, 

ow       I 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE    SNOWS 

"  Well,  all  right.  I  can  rest  up  and  look  over  my 
notes  while  you're  hunting  your  ancient  river-bed." 

"  Didn't  I  tell  you  it  was  a  hunch  ?"  Del  reproach 
fully  demanded. 

"And  haven't  I  agreed  to  stop  over?  What  more 
do  you  want?" 

"  To  give  you  a  fruit  ranch,  that's  what !  Just  to 
go  with  me  and  nose  round  a  bit,  that's  all." 

"  I  do  not  want  any  of  your  impossible  fruit  ranches. 
I'm  tired  and  worried;  can't  you  leave  me  alone?  I 
think  I  am  more  than  fair  when  I  humor  you  to  the 
extent  of  stopping  over.  You  may  waste  your  time 
nosing  around,  but  I  shall  stay  in  camp.  Under 
stand?" 

"  Burn  my  body,  but  you're  grateful !  By  the 
Jumpin"  Methuselah,  I'll  quit  my  job  in  two  minutes 
if  you  don't  fire  me.  Me  a-layin'  'wake  nights  and 
workin'  up  my  theory,  and  calculatin'  on  lettin'  you 
in,  and  you  a-snorin'  and  Frona-this  and  Frona- 
that " 

"That'll  do!    Stop  it!" 

"The  hell  it  will!  If  I  didn't  know  more  about 
gold-mining  than  you  do  about  courtin' " 

Corliss  sprang  at  him,  but  Del  dodged  to  one  side 
and  put  up  his  fists.  Then  he  ducked  a  wild  right  and 
left  swing  and  side-stepped  his  way  into  firmer  foot 
ing  on  the  hard  trail. 

"  Hold  on  a  moment,"  he  cried,  as  Corliss  made  to 
come  at  him  again.  "  Just  a  second.  If  I  lick  you, 
will  you  come  up  the  hillside  with  me?" 

"  Yes." 

"And  if  I  don't,  you  can  fire  me.  That's  fair. 
Come  on." 

156 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 


Vance  had  no  show  whatever,  as  Del  well  knew,  who 
played  with  him,  feinting,  attacking,  retreating,  daz 
zling,  and  disappearing  every  now  and  again  out  of  his 
field  of  vision  in  a  most  exasperating  way.  As  Vance 
speedily  discovered,  he  possessed  very  little  correlation 
between  mind  and  body,  and  the  next  thing  he  discov 
ered  was  that  he  was  lying  in  the  snow  and  slowly 
coming  back  to  his  senses. 

"  How — how  did  you  do  it  ?"  he  stammered  to  the 
pocket-miner,  who  had  his  head  on  his  knee  and  was 
rubbing  his  forehead  with  snow. 

"  Oh,  you'll  do !"  Del  laughed,  helping  him  limply 
to  his  feet.  "  You're  the  right  stuff.  I'll  show  you 
some  time.  You've  got  lots  to  learn  yet  what  you 
won't  find  in  books.  But  not  now.  We've  got  to 
wade  in  and  make  camp,  then  you're  comin'  up  the  hill 
with  me." 

"  Hee !  hee !"  he  chuckled  later,  as  they  fitted  the 
pipe  of  the  Yukon  stove.  "  Slow  sighted  and  short. 
Couldn't  follow  me,  eh?  But  I'll  show  you  some 
time,  oh,  I'll  show  you  all  right,  all  right !" 

"  Grab  an  axe  an'  come  on,"  he  commanded  when 
the  camp  was  completed. 

He  led  the  way  up  Eldorado,  borrowed  a  pick, 
shovel,  and  pan  at  a  cabin,  and  headed  up  among  the 
benches  near  the  mouth  of  French  Creek.  Vance, 
though  feeling  somewhat  sore,  was  laughing  at  him 
self  by  this  time  and  enjoying  the  situation.  He  ex 
aggerated  the  humility  with  which  he  walked  at  the 
heel  of  his  conqueror,  while  the  extravagant  servility 
which  marked  his  obedience  to  his  hired  man  made 
that  individual  grin. 

"  You'll  do.  You've  got  the  makin's  in  you !"  Del 
157 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

threw  down  the  tools  and  scanned  the  run  of  the  snow- 
surface  carefully.  "  Here,  take  the  axe,  shinny  up  the 
hill,  and  lug  me  down  some  skookum  dry  wood/7 

By  the  time  Corliss  returned  with  the  last  load  of 
wood,  the  pocket-miner  had  cleared  away  the  snow 
and  moss  in  divers  spots,  and  formed,  in  general  de 
sign,  a  rude  cross. 

"  Cuttin'  her  both  ways,"  he  explained.  "  Mebbe 
I'll  hit  her  here,  or  over  there,  or  up  above;  but  if 
there's  anything  in  the  hunch,  this  is  the  place.  Bed 
rock  dips  in  above,  and  it's  deep  there  and  most  likely 
richer,  but  too  much  work.  This  is  the  rim  of  the 
bench.  Can't  be  more'n  a  couple  of  feet  down.  All 
we  want  is  indications;  afterwards  we  can  tap  in  from 
the  side." 

As  he  talked,  he  started  fires  here  and  there  on 
the  uncovered  spaces.  "  But  look  here,  Corliss,  I  want 
you  to  mind  this  ain't  pocketin'.  This  is  just  plain 
ordinary  'prentice  work ;  but  pocketin'  " — he  straight 
ened  up  his  back  and  spoke  reverently — "  but  pocket- 
in'  is  the  deepest  science  and  the  finest  art.  Delicate 
to  a  hair's-breadth,  hand  and  eye  true  and  steady  as 
steel.  When  you've  got  to  burn  your  pan  blue-black 
twice  a  day,  and  out  of  a  shovelful  of  gravel  wash 
down  to  the  one  wee  speck  of  flour  gold, — why,  that's 
washin',  that's  what  it  is.  Tell  you  what,  I'd  sooner 
follow  a  pocket  than  eat." 

"  And  you  would  sooner  fight  than  do  either." 

Bishop  stopped  to  consider.  He  weighed  him 
self  with  care  equal  to  that  of  retaining  the  one  wee 
speck  of  flour  gold.  "  No,  I  wouldn't,  neither.  I'd 
take  pocketin'  in  mine  every  time.  It's  as  bad  as  dope, 
Corliss,  sure.  If  it  once  gets  a-hold  of  you,  you're  a 

158 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

goner.  You'll  never  shake  it.  Look  at  me!  And 
talk  about  pipe-dreams;  they  can't  burn  a  candle 
Alongside  of  it." 

He  walked  over  and  kicked  one  of  the  fires  apart. 
Then  he  lifted  the  pick,  and  the  steel  point  drove  in 
and  stopped  with  a  metallic  clang,  as  though  brought 
up  by  solid  cement. 

"  Ain't  thawed  two  inches,"  he  muttered,  stooping 
down  and  groping  with  his  fingers  in  the  wet  muck. 
The  blades  of  last  year's  grass  had  been  burned  away, 
but  he  managed  to  gather  up  and  tear  away  a  handful 
of  the  roots. 


"What's  the  matter?"  Corliss  asked. 

"  Hell  !"  he  repeated  in  a  passionless  way,  knocking 
the  dirt-covered  roots  against  the  pan. 

Corliss  went  over  and  stooped  to  closer  inspection. 
"  Hold  on  !"  he  cried,  picking  up  two  or  three  grimy 
bits  of  dirt  and  rubbing  them  with  his  fingers.  A 
bright  yellow  flashed  forth. 

"  Hell  !"  the  pocket-miner  reiterated  tonelessly. 
"  First  rattle  out  the  box.  Begins  at  the  grass 
roots  and  goes  all  the  way  down." 

Head  turned  to  the  side  and  up,  eyes  closed,  nos 
trils  distended  and  quivering,  he  rose  suddenly  to  his 
feet  and  sniffed  the  air.  Corliss  looked  up  wonder- 
ingly. 

"  Huh  !"  the  pocket-miner  grunted.  Then  he  drew 
a  deep  breath.  "  Can't  you  smell  them  oranges  ?" 


CHAPTER  XVI 


THE  stampede  to  French  Hill  was  on  by  the  begin 
ning  of  Christmas  week.  Corliss  and  Bishop  had  been 
in  no  hurry  to  record,  for  they  looked  the  ground  over 
carefully  before  blazing  their  stakes,  and  let  a  few 
close  friends  into  the  secret, — Harney,  Welse,  Tretha- 
way,  a  Dutch  chechaquo  who  had  forfeited  both  feet 
to  the  frost,  a  couple  of  the  mounted  police,  an  old 
pal  with  whom  Del  had  prospected  through  the  Black 
Hills  Country,  the  washerwoman  at  the  Forks,  and 
last,  and  notably,  Lucile.  Corliss  was  responsible  for 
her  getting  in  on  the  lay,  and  he  drove  and  marked 
her  stakes  himself,  though  it  fell  to  the  colonel  to 
deliver  the  invitation  to  her  to  come  and  be  rich. 

In  accordance  with  the  custom  of  the  country,  those 
thus  benefited  offered  to  sign  over  half-interests  to  the 
two  discoverers.  Corliss  would  not  tolerate  the  propo 
sition.  Del  was  similarly  minded,  though  swayed 
by  no  ethical  reasons.  He  had  enough  as  it  stood. 
"  Got  my  fruit  ranch  paid  for,  double  the  size  I  was 
calculatin'  on/'  he  explained ;  "  and  if  I  had  any  more, 
I  wouldn't  know  what  to  do  with  it,  sure/' 

After  the  strike,  Corliss  took  it  upon  himself  as  a 
matter  of  course  to  look  about  for  another  man;  but 
when  he  brought  a  keen-eyed  Californian  into  camp, 
Del  was  duly  wroth. 

"  Not  on  your  life,"  he  stormed. 
160 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE   SNOWS 

"  But  you  are  rich  now,"  Vance  answered,  "  and 
have  no  need  to  work." 

"  Rich,  hell !"  the  pocket-miner  rejoined.  "  Ac- 
cordin'  to  covenant,  you  can't  fire  me;  and  I'm  goin' 
to  hold  the  job  down  as  long  as  my  sweet  will'll  let 
me.  Savve?" 

On  Friday  morning,  early,  all  interested  parties  ap 
peared  before  the  Gold  Commissioner  to  record  their 
claims.  The  news  went  abroad  immediately.  In  five  min 
utes  the  first  stampeders  were  hitting  the  trail.  At  the 
end  of  half  an  hour  the  town  was  afoot.  To  prevent  mis 
takes  on  their  property, — jumping,  moving  of  stakes, 
and  mutilation  of  notices, — Vance  and  Del,  after 
promptly  recording,  started  to  return.  But  with  the 
government  seal  attached  to  their  holdings,  they  took 
it  leisurely,  the  stampeders  sliding  past  them  in  a 
steady  stream.  Midway,  Del  chanced  to  look  behind. 
St.  Vincent  was  in  sight,  footing  it  at  a  lively  pace, 
the  regulation  stampeding  pack  on  his  shoulders.  The 
trail  made  a  sharp  bend  at  that  place,  and  with  the 
exception  of  the  three  of  them  no  one  was  in  sight. 

"  Don't  speak  to  me.  Don't  recognize  me,"  Del 
cautioned  sharply,  as  he  spoke,  buttoning  his  nose- 
strap  across  his  face,  which  served  to  quite  hide  his 
identity.  k  There's  a  water-hole  over  there.  Get  down 
on  your  belly  and  make  a  blind  at  gettin'  a  drink. 
Then  go  on  by  your  lonely  to  the  claims;  I've  busi 
ness  of  my  own  to  handle.  And  for  the  love  of  your 
mother  don't  say  a  word  to  me  or  to  the  skunk.  Don't 
let  'm  see  your  face." 

Corliss  obeyed  wonderingly,  stepping  aside  from  the 
beaten  path,  lying  down  in  the  snow,  and  dipping 
into  the  water-hole  with  an  empty  condensed  milk- 
ii  161 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

can.  Bishop  bent  on  one  knee  and  stooped  as  though 
fastening  his  moccasin.  Just  as  St.  Vincent  came  up 
with  him  he  finished  tying  the  knot,  and  started  for 
ward  with  the  feverish  haste  of  a  man  trying  to  make 
up  for  lost  time. 

"  I  say,  hold  on,  my  man,"  the  correspondent  called 
out  to  him. 

Bishop  shot  a  hurried  glance  at  him  and  pressed  on. 
St.  Vincent  broke  into  a  run  till  they  were  side  by  side 
again. 

"  Is  this  the  way " 

"  To  the  benches  of  French  Hill  ?"  Del  snapped  him 
short.  "  Betcher  your  life.  That's  the  way  I'm 
headin'.  So  long." 

He  ploughed  forward  at  a  tremendous  rate,  and  the 
correspondent,  half-running,  swung  in  behind  with  the 
evident  intention  of  taking  the  pace.  Corliss,  still  in 
the  dark,  lifted  his  head  and  watched  them  go;  but 
when  he  saw  the  pocket-miner  swerve  abruptly  to  the 
right  and  take  the  trail  up  Adams  Creek,  the  light 
dawned  upon  him  and  he  laughed  softly  to  himself. 

Late  that  night  Del  arrived  in  camp  on  Eldorado 
exhausted  but  jubilant. 

"  Didn't  do  a  thing  to  him/'  he  cried  before  he  was 
half  inside  the  tent-flaps.  "  Gimme  a  bite  to  eat" 
(grabbing  at  the  teapot  and  running  a  hot  flood 
down  his  throat), — "  cookin'-fat,  slush,  old  moccasins, 
candle-ends,  anything !" 

Then  he  collapsed  upon  the  blankets  and  fell  to 
rubbing  his  stiff  leg-muscles  while  Corliss  fried  bacon 
and  dished  up  the  beans. 

"  What  about  'm  ?"  he  exulted  between  mouthfuls. 
"  Well,  you  can  stack  your  chips  that  he  didn't  get  in 

162 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE   SNOWS 

on  the  French  Hill  benches.  How  far  is  it,  my  man?" 
(in  the  well-mimicked,  patronizing  tones  of  St.  Vin 
cent).  "How  far  is  it?"  with  the  patronage  left  out. 
"  How  far  to  French  Hill?"  weakly.  "  How  far  do 
you  think  it  is?"  very  weakly,  with  a  tremolo  which 
hinted  of  repressed  tears.  "  How  far " 

The  pocket-miner  burst  into  roars  of  laughter, 
which  were  choked  by  a  misdirected  flood  of  tea, 
and  which  left  him  coughing  and  speechless. 

"  Where'd  I  leave  'm  ?"  when  he  had  recovered. 
"  Over  on  the  divide  to  Indian  River,  winded,  plum- 
beaten,  done  for.  Just  about  able  to  crawl  into  the 
nearest  camp,  and  that's  about  all.  I've  covered  fifty 
stiff  miles  myself,  so  here's  for  bed.  Good-night. 
Don't  call  me  in  the  mornin V 

He  turned  into  the  blankets  all-standing,  and  as  he 
dozed  off  Vance  could  hear  him  muttering,  "  How  far 
is  it,  my  man?  I  say,  how  far  is  it?" 

Regarding  Lucile,  Corliss  was  disappointed.  "  I 
confess  I  cannot  understand  her,"  he  said  to  Colonel 
Trethaway.  "  I  thought  her  bench  claim  would  make 
her  independent  of  the  Opera  House." 

"You  can't  get  a  dump  out  in  a  day,"  the  colonel 
interposed. 

"  But  you  can  mortgage  the  dirt  in  the  ground  when 
it  prospects  as  hers  does.  Yet  I  took  that  into  con 
sideration,  and  offered  to  advance  her  a  few  thousand, 
non-interest  bearing,  and  she  declined.  Said  she 
didn't  need  it,  —in  fact,  was  really  grateful ;  thanked 
me,  and  said  that  any  time  I  was  short  to  come  and 
see  her." 

Trethaway  smiled  and  played  with  his  watch-chain. 
163 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE   SNOWS 

"  What  would  you  ?  Life,  even  here,  certainly  means 
more  to  you  and  me  than  a  bit  of  grub,  a  piece  of 
blanket,  and  a  Yukon  stove.  She  is  as  gregarious  as 
the  rest  of  us,  and  probably  a  little  more  so.  Sup 
pose  you  cut  her  off  from  the  Opera  House, — what 
then?  May  she  go  up  to  the  Barracks  and  consort 
with  the  captain's  lady,  make  social  calls  on  Mrs.  Scho- 
ville,  or  chum  with  Frona  ?  Don't  you  see  ?  Will  you 
escort  her,  in  daylight,  down  the  public  street?" 

"  Will  you?"  Vance  demanded. 

"  Ay,"  the  colonel  replied,  unhesitatingly,  "  and  with 
pleasure." 

"And  so  will  I;    but "     He  paused  and  gazed 

gloomily  into  the  fire.  "  But  see  how  she  is  going  on 
with  St.  Vincent.  As  thick  as  thieves  they  are,  and 
always  together." 

"  Puzzles  me,"  Trethaway  admitted.  "  I  can  grasp 
St.  Vincent's  side  of  it.  Many  irons  in  the  fire,  and 
Lucile  owns  a  bench  claim  on  the  second  tier  of 
French  Hill.  Mark  me,  Corliss,  we  can  tell  infallibly 
the  day  that  Frona  consents  to  go  to  his  bed  and  board, 
— if  she  ever  does  consent." 

"And  that  will  be?" 

"  The  day  St.  Vincent  breaks  with  Lucile." 

Corliss  pondered,  and  the  colonel  went  on. 

"  But  I  can't  grasp  Lucile's  side  of  it.  What  she  can 
see  in  St.  Vincent " 

"  Her  taste  is  no  worse  than — than  that  of  the  rest 
of  the  women,"  Vance  broke  in  hotly.  "  I  am  sure 
that " 

"  Frona  could  not  display  poor  taste   eh  ?" 

Corliss  turned  on  his  heel  and  walked  out,  and  left 
Colonel  Trethaway  smiling  grimly. 

164 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE   SNOWS 

Vance  Corliss  never  knew  how  many  people,  di 
rectly  and  indirectly,  had  his  cause  at  heart  that  Christ 
mas  week.  Two  men  strove  in  particular,  one  for 
him  and  one  for  the  sake  of  Frona.  Pete  Whipple,  an 
old-timer  in  the  land,  possessed  an  Eldorado  claim 
directly  beneath  French  Hill,  also  a  woman  of  the 
country  for  a  wife, — a  swarthy  breed,  not  over  pretty, 
whose  Indian  mother  had  mated  with  a  Russian  fur- 
trader  some  thirty  years  before  at  Kutlik  on  the  Great 
Delta.  Bishop  went  down  one  Sunday  morning  to  yarn 
away  an  hour  or  so  with  Whipple,  but  found  the  wife 
alone  in  the  cabin.  She  talked  a  bastard  English  gib 
berish  which  was  an  anguish  to  hear,  so  the  pocket- 
miner  resolved  to  smoke  a  pipe  and  depart  without 
rudeness.  But  he  got  her  tongue  wagging,  and  to  such 
an  extent  that  he  stopped  and  smoked  many  pipes, 
and  whenever  she  lagged,  urged  her  on  again.  He 
grunted  and  chuckled  and  swore  in  undertones  while 
he  listened,  punctuating  her  narrative  regularly  with 
hells!  which  adequately  expressed  the  many  shades  of 
interest  he  felt. 

In  the  midst  of  it,  the  woman  fished  an  ancient 
leather-bound  volume,  all  scarred  and  marred,  from 
the  bottom  cf  a  dilapidated  chest,  and  thereafter  it  lay 
on  the  table  between  them.  Though  it  remained  un 
opened,  she  constantly  referred  to  it  by  look  and  ges 
ture,  and  each  time  she  did  so  a  greedy  light  blazed  in 
Bishop's  eyes.  At  the  end,  when  she  could  say  no 
more  and  had  repeated  herself  from  two  to  half  a 
dozen  times,  he  pulled  out  his  sack.  Mrs.  Whipple 
set  up  the  gold  scales  and  placed  the  weights,  which 
he  counterbalanced  with  a  hundred  dollars'  worth  of 
dust.  Then  he  departed  up  the  hill  to  the  tent,  hug- 

165 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

ging  the  purchase  closely,  and  broke  in  on  Corliss, 
who  sat  in  the  blankets  mending  moccasins. 

"  I'll  fix  'm  yet,"  Del  remarked  casually,  at  the  same 
time  patting  the  book  and  throwing  it  down  on  the 
bed. 

Corliss  looked  up  inquiringly  and  opened  it.  The 
paper  was  yellow  with  age  and  rotten  from  the 
weather-wear  of  trail,  while  the  text  was  printed  in 
Russian.  "  I  didn't  know  you  were  a  Russian  scholar, 
Del,"  he  quizzed.  "  But  I  can't  read  a  line  of  it." 

"  Neither  can  I,  more's  the  pity ;  nor  does  Whip- 
pie's  woman  savve  the  lingo.  I  got  it  from  her.  But 
her  old  man — he  was  full  Russian,  you  know — he  used 
to  read  it  aloud  to  her.  But  she  knows  what  she  knows 
and  what  her  old  man  knew,  and  so  do  I." 

"  And  what  do  the  three  of  you  know  ?" 

"  Oh,  that's  tellin',"  Bishop  answered,  coyly.  "  But 
you  wait  and  watch  my  smoke,  and  when  you  see  it 
risin',  you'll  know,  too." 

Matt  McCarthy  came  in  over  the  ice  Christmas 
week,  summed  up  the  situation  so  far  as  Frona  and 
St.  Vincent  were  concerned,  and  did  not  like  it.  Dave 
Harney  furnished  him  with  full  information,  to  which 
he  added  that  obtained  from  Lucile,  with  whom  he 
was  on  good  terms.  Perhaps  it  was  because  he  re 
ceived  the  full  benefit  of  the  sum  of  their  prejudice; 
but  no  matter  how,  he  at  any  rate  answered  roll-call 
with  those  who  looked  upon  the  correspondent  with 
disfavor.  It  was  impossible  for  them  to  tell  why  they 
did  not  approve  of  the  man,  but  somehow  St.  Vincent 
was  never  much  of  a  success  with  men.  This,  in  turn, 
might  have  been  due  to  the  fact  that  he  shone  so 

166 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

resplendently  with  women  as  to  cast  his  fellows  in 
eclipse ;  for  otherwise,  in  his  intercourse  with  men,  he 
was  all  that  a  man  could  wish.  There  was  nothing 
domineering  or  over-riding  about  him,  while  he  mani 
fested  a  good  fellowship  at  least  equal  to  their  own. 

Yet,  having  withheld  his  judgment  after  listening 
to  Lucile  and  Harney,  Matt  McCarthy  speedily  reached 
a  verdict  upon  spending  an  hour  with  St.  Vincent  at 
Jacob  Welse's, — and  this  in  face  of  the  fact  that  what 
Lucile  had  said  had  been  invalidated  by  Matt's  learn 
ing  of  her  intimacy  with  the  man  in  question.  Strong 
of  friendship,  quick  of  heart  and  hand,  Matt  did  not 
let  the  grass  grow  under  his  feet.  "  'Tis  I'll  be  takin' 
a  social  fling  meself,  as  befits  a  mimber  iv  the  noble 
Eldorado  Dynasty,"  he  explained,  and  went  up  the 
hill  to  a  whist  party  in  Dave  Harney's  cabin.  To  him 
self  he  added,  "  An'  belike,  if  Satan  takes  his  eye  off 
his  own,  I'll  put  it  to  that  young  cub  iv  his." 

But  more  than  once  during  the  evening  he  dis 
covered  himself  challenging  his  own  judgment.  Probe 
as  he  would  with  his  innocent  wit,  Matt  found  him 
self  baffled.  St.  Vincent  certainly  rang  true.  Sim 
ple,  light-hearted,  unaffected,  joking  and  being  joked 
in  all  good-nature,  thoroughly  democratic,  Matt  failed 
to  catch  the  faintest  echo  of  insincerity. 

"  May  the  dogs  walk  on  me  grave,"  he  communed 
with  himself  while  studying  a  hand  which  suffered 
from  a  plethora  of  trumps.  "  Is  it  the  years  are  tellin', 
puttin'  the  frost  in  me  veins  and  chillin'  the  blood? 
A  likely  lad.  an'  is  it  for  me  to  misjudge  because  his 
is  a-takin'  way  with  the  ladies?  Just  because  the 
swate  creatures  smile  on  the  lad  an'  flutter  warm  at 
the  sight  iv  him  ?  Bright  eyes  and  brave  men !  'Tis 

167 


A    DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

the  way  they  have  iv  lovin*  valor.  Tlu-yYr  shuddered 
an'  shocked  at  the  cruel  an'  bloody  dadcs  i\  vrar,  yet 
who  so  c|Mi»  I.  dn  ih'-y  lose  their  hearts  to  as  the  brave 

butcher  hye   iv  a  sodj/rr?      Why   not?     Tin-   lad':,  done 

bf»ve  ihings,  and  the  girls  give  liim  tin-  wann  '.'.ft 
smile.  Small  reason,  that,  for  me  to  be  callin'  him  the 
devil's  own  cub.  Out  upon  ye,  Matt  McCarthy,  for  a 
crusty  old  sour-dou^h,  wiili  vitals  frozen  an*  summer 
gone  from  yer  heart!  Tis  an  ossification  ye've  be 
come  !  But  bide  a  wcc,  Matt,  bide  a  wee,"  he  supple- 
..,.  MI,  ,i  "  w.-iii  till  yr've  felt  the  fale  iv  his  flesh." 

The   opportunity   eame   .-.Iiortly,    win  n    lit.    Vni<<-iii, 
with    I1  n  »na  npp«»'.iir,  :.w«-pl    in  I  IK-   lull   tlm  I.  •  n   1 i  i.-  I.  .. 

rampsel"  Matt  cried.     "  Vim-rut,  nu:  lad,  a 

i  aiuj  i  •.'    '      Y«  i    li.iii'l   nu   il ,   nic  In  a  vr  !" 

ll    v,,i.  ,i   '.Iniil    i',ii|>,   iM-illici    \v;tim   imi    <  lamniy,  1ml 

Mall  ,linn|.  hi-.  ||<ad  (|lll)|n||',lv.  "  Wlial''.  tile  f.ood  IV 
l)"l  li-'i  ill'  :'"  In-  'Hill  I'l  '-'I  In  IIIIH  ,clf  .1  .  IK-  •  liullli  d  Ili<- 

cards  for  the  next  deal.  "  Ye  old  fool !  Find  out  first 
how  Frona  darlin'  stands,  an'  if  it's  pat  she  is,  H.in  'i- . 

I  HIM-    Im    doin'." 

"Oh.    Mi  (  ';M  lliy':.  all   li 
tlirin    lalrr  on,  COmil)):    to   the   rescue  of  St.   Vin«n!. 

who   wa-.   JM-II  in;;    tin-    inii;;h    :,i<|c   nj    |h«-    1  i  i  .1  n  i  M  1 1'  ,    wit 
'I  hr   i-viiiin;;    vva1.  over  and    Ihc   rnmpany    was   |»ulliir' 

oH  its  wraps  and  mitten  i     "  i  Udn'l  ''-'I  you  'bout  his 

vr.il     In    the    <  alhrdral,    did     In-,     win  n     IH      wa  .    .  .11     MM- 

onisidc?  Well,  it  was  sutlnn'  like  this,  ei  he  was 
explainin'  it  to  me.  He  went  to  the  cathedral  durin1 

•.'•i  vi.  .  .   an'   In,,],    in   (In-   pi  i,     i  .   .;,,,]    ,  hnii    |,nys   in    tin  il 

surplices, — parkas,  he  called  'em, — an'  watched  ii>< 

IHIIIIIM'  n!    lli.    holy    n,,  ,  n  ,<•       '  An'  dn   y   know,    Dave.' 

KM 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

he  sez  to  me,  '  they  got  in  an'  made  a  smudge,  and 
there  wa'n't  a  darned  mosquito  in  sight/  " 

"True,  ivery  won!  iv  it."  Matt  unblushingly 
fathered  Harney's  yarn.  "  An'  did  ye  niver  hear  tell 
iv  the  time  Dave  an'  me  got  drunk  on  condensed 
milk  ?" 

"Oh!  Horrors!"  cried  Mrs.  Schoville.  "But 
how?  Do  tell  us." 

"  'Twas  durin'  the  time  iv  the  candle  famine  at 
Forty  Mile.  Cold  snap  on,  an'  Dave  slides  into  me 
shack  to  pass  the  time  o*  day,  and  glues  his  eyes  on 
me  case  iv  condensed  milk.  '  How'd  ye  like  a  sip  iv 
Moran's  good  whiskey?'  he  sez,  eyin*  the  case  iv  milk 
the  while.  I  confiss  me  mouth  went  wet  at  the  naked 
thought  iv  it.  'But  what's  the  use  iv  likin'?'  sez  I, 
'  with  me  sack  bulgin'  with*  emptiness.'  '  Candles 
worth  tin  dollars  the  dozen,'  sez  he,  '  a  dollar  apiece. 
Will  ye  give  six  cans  iv  milk  for  a  bottle  iv  the  old 
stuff?'  '  How'll  ye  do  it?'  sez  I.  '  Trust  me/  sez  he. 
'Give  me  the  cans.  Tis  cold  out  iv  doors,  an'  I've 
a  pair  iv  candle-moulds/ 

"A:  sacred  truth  I'm  tellin'  ye  all,  an'  if  ye 

run  across  Bill  Moran  he'll  back  me  word;   for  what 
does  Dave  Harney  do  but  lug  off  me  six  cans,  freeze 
the  null:  into  his  candle-moulds,  an'  trade  them  in  to 
Bill  Moran  for  a  bottle  iv  tanglefoot!" 
As  soon  as  he  could  be  heard  through  the  laughter, 
:iey  raised  his  voice.      "  It's  true,  as  McCarthy 
tells,  but  he's  only  told  you  the  half.    Can't  you  guess 
the  rest,  Mat- 
Matt  shook  Til's  head. 

Pi   on  milk  myself,  an'  not  over  much 
sugar,   I   doctored  three  of  your   cans   with   water, 

169 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

which  went  to  make  the  candles.     An'  by  the  bye,  I 
had  milk  in  my  coffee  for  a  month  to  come." 

"It's  on  me,  Dave,"  McCarthy  admitted.  "  Tis 
only  that  yer  me  host,  or  I'd  be  shockin'  the  ladies  with 
yer  nortorious  disgraces.  But  I'll  lave  ye  live  thi? 
time,  Dave.  Come,  spade  the  partin'  guests ;  we  must 
be  movin'." 

"  No  ye  don't,  ye  young  laddy-buck,"  he  interposed, 
as  St.  Vincent  started  to  take  Frona  down  the  hill. 
:  Tis  her  foster-daddy  sees  her  home  this  night." 

McCarthy  laughed  in  his  silent  way  and  offered  his 
arm  to  Frona,  while  St.  Vincent  joined  in  the  laugh 
against  himself,  dropped  back,  and  joined  Miss  Mor 
timer  and  Baron  Courbertin. 

"What's  this  I'm  hearin'  about  you  an'  Vincent?" 
Matt  bluntly  asked  as  soon  as  they  had  drawn  apart 
from  the  others. 

He  looked  at  her  with  his  keen  gray  eyes,  but  she 
returned  the  look  quite  as  keenly. 

"  How  should  I  know  what  you  have  been  hear 
ing?"  she  countered. 

"  Whin  the  talk  goes  round  iv  a  maid  an'  a  man,  the 
one  pretty  an'  the  other  not  unhandsome,  both  young 
an'  neither  married,  does  it  'token  aught  but  the  one 
thing?" 

"Yes?" 

"An'  the  one  thing  the  greatest  thing  in  all  the 
world." 

"  Well  ?"  Frona  was  the  least  bit  angry,  and  did  not 
feel  inclined  to  help  him. 

"  Marriage,  iv  course,"  he  blurted  out.  "  'Tis  said 
it  looks  that  way  with  the  pair  of  ye." 

"  But  is  it  said  that  it  is  that  way?" 
170 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

"  Isn't  the  looks  iv  it  enough  ?"  he  demanded. 

"  No ;  and  you  are  old  enough  to  know  better.  Mr. 
St.  Vincent  and  I — we  enjoy  each  other  as  friends, 
that  is  all.  But  suppose  it  is  as  you  say,  what  of 
it?" 

"  Well,"  McCarthy  deliberated,  "  there's  other  talk 
goes  round.  'Tis  said  Vincent  is  over-thick  with  a 
jade  down  in  the  town — Lucile,  they  speak  iv  her." 

"  All  of  which  signifies  ?" 

She  waited,  and  McCarthy  watched  her  dumbly. 

"  I  know  Lucile,  and  I  like  her,"  Frona  continued, 
filling  the  gap  of  his  silence,  and  ostentatiously  man 
oeuvring  to  help  him  on.  "  Do  you  know  her  ?  Don't 
you  like  her?" 

Matt  started  to  speak,  cleared  his  throat,  and  halted. 
At  last,  in  desperation,  he  blurted  out,  "  For  two  cents, 
Frona,  I'd  lay  ye  acrost  me  knee." 

She  laughed.  "  You  don't  dare.  I'm  not  running 
barelegged  at  Dyea." 

"  Now  don't  be  tasin',"  he  blarneyed. 

"  I'm  not  teasing.    Don't  you  like  her? — Lucile?" 

"  An'  what  iv  it  ?"  he  challenged,  brazenly. 

"Just  what  I  asked,— what  of  it?" 

r<  Thin  I'll  tell  ye  in  plain  words  from  a  man  old 
enough  to  be  yer  father.  'Tis  undacent,  damnably  un- 
dacent,  for  a  man  to  kape  company  with  a  good  young 
girl " 

''  Thank  you/'  she  laughed,  dropping  a  courtesy. 
Then  she  added,  half  in  bitterness,  "  There  have  been 
others  who " 

"  Name  me  the  man !"  he  cried  hotly. 

''  There,  there,  go  on.    You  were  saying  ?" 

"  That  it's  a  crying  shame  for  a  man  to  kape  com- 
171 


A    DAUGHTER    OF   THE   SNOWS 

pany  with — with  you,  an'  at  the  same  time  be  chake 
by  jowl  with  a  woman  iv  her  stamp." 

"And  why?" 

"  To  come  drippin'  from  the  muck  to  dirty  yer 
claneness!  An'  ye  can  ask  why?" 

"  But  wait,  Matt,  wait  a  moment.  Granting  your 
premises " 

"  Little  I  know  iv  primises,"  he  growled.  "  Tis 
facts  I'm  dalin'  with." 

Frona  bit  her  lip.  "  Never  mind.  Have  it  as  you 
will;  but  let  me  go  on  and  I  will  deal  with  facts,  too. 
When  did  you  last  see  Lucile?" 

"An'  why  are  ye  askin'?"  he  demanded,  suspi 
ciously. 

"  Never  mind  why.    The  fact." 

"Well,  thin,  the  fore  part  iv  last  night,  an'  much 
good  may  it  do  ye." 

"And  danced  with  her?" 

"  A  roilickin'  Virginia  reel,  an5  not  sayin'  a  word  iv 
a  quadrille  or  so.  'Tis  at  square  dances  I  excel  me- 
self." 

Frona  walked  on  in  a  simulated  brown  study,  no 
sound  going  up  from  the  twain  save  the  complaint  of 
the  snow  from  under  their,  moccasins. 

"  Well,  thin  ?"  he  questioned,  uneasily. 

"  An'  what  iv  it  ?"  he  insisted  after  another  silence. 

"  Oh,  nojhing,"  she  answered.  "  I  was  just  won 
dering  which  was  the  muckiest,  Mr.  St.  Vincent  or 
you — or  myself,  with  whom  you  have  both  been  cheek 
by  jowl." 

Now,  McCarthy  was  ^unversed  in  the  virtues  of 
social  wisdom,  and,  though  he  felt  somehow  the  error 
of  her  position,  he  could  not  put  it  into  definite 

172 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE    SNOWS 

thought;    so   he    steered    wisely,   if   weakly,    out    of 
danger. 

"  It's  gettin'  mad  ye  are  with  yer  old  Matt,"  he  in 
sinuated,  "  who  has  yer  own  good  at  heart,  an'  because 
iv  it  makes  a  fool  iv  himself." 

"  No,  I'm  not." 

"  But  ye  are." 

"  There !"  leaning  swiftly  to  him  and  kissing  him. 
"  How  could  I  remember  the  Dyea  days  and  be 
angry?" 

"Ah,  Frona  darlin',  well  may  ye  say  it.  I'm  the 
dust  iv  the  dirt  under  yer  feet,  an'  ye  may  walk  on  me 
— anything  save  get  mad.  I  cud  die  for  ye,  swing  for 
ye,  to  make  ye  happy.  I  cud  kill  the  man  that  gave 
ye  sorrow,  were  it  but  a  thimbleful,  an'  go  plump  into 
hell  with  a  smile  on  me  face  an'  joy  in  me  heart." 

They  hH  halted  before  her  door,  and  she  pressed 
his  arm  g  .  "  I  am  not  angry,  Matt.  But  with 
the  excej  my  father  you  are  the  only  person  I 
would  he*  litted  to  tafrk  to  me  about  this — this 
affair  in  you  have.  And  though  I  like  you, 
Matt,  lov  tter  than  ever,  I  shall  nevertheless  be 
very  ang  u  mention  it  again.  You  have  no 
right.  It  :hing  that  concerns  me  alone.  And  it 
is  wrong  " 

'  To  .  e  walkin'  blind  into  danger  ?" 

"  If  yov  to  put  it  that  way,  yes." 

He  .teep  down  in  his  throat. 

fou  are  saying?"  she  asked. 

shut  me  mouth,  but  that  ye  can't  bind 
me  a 

•tn't,  Matt,  dear,  you  mustn't."    . 
ifrfered  with  a  subterranean  murmur. 
173 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

"  And  I  want  you  to  promise  me,  now,  that  you  will 
not  interfere  in  my  life  that  way,  by  word  or  deed." 

"  I'll  not  promise." 

"  But  you  must." 

"  I'll  not.  Further,  it's  gettin'  cold  on  the  stoop,  an' 
ye'll  be  frostin'  yer  toes,  the  pink  little  toes  I  fished 
splinters  out  iv  at  Dyea.  So  it's  in  with  ye,  Frona 
girl,  an'  good-night." 

He  thrust  her  inside  and  departed.  When  he 
reached  the  corner  he  stopped  suddenly  and  regarded 
his  shadow  on  the  snow.  "  Matt  McCarthy,  yer  a 
damned  fool !  Who  iver  heard  iv  a  Welse  not  knowin' 
their  own  mind?  As  though  ye'd  niver  had  dalin's 
with  the  stiff-necked  bree$,  ye  calamitous  son  iv  mis 
fortune  !" 

Then  he  went  his  way,  still  growling  deeply,  and  at 
every  growl  the  curious  wolf-dog  at  his  heels  bristled 
and  bared  its  fangs. 


174 


CHAPTER  XVII 


"TIRED?" 

Jacob  Welse  put  both  hands  on  Frona's  shoulders, 
and  his  eyes  spoke  the  love  his  stiff  tongue  could  not 
compass.  The  tree  and  the  excitement  and  the  pleas 
ure  were  over  with,  a  score  or  so  of  children  had  gone 
home  frostily  happy  across  the  snow,  the  last  guest 
had  departed,  and  Christmas  Eve  and  Christmas  Day 
were  blending  into  one. 

She  returned  his  fondness  with  glad-eyed  interest, 
and  they  dropped  into  huge  comfortable  chairs  on 
either  side  the  fireplace,  in  which  the  back-log  was 
falling  to  ruddy  ruin. 

"And  this  time  next  year?"  He  put  the  question 
seemingly  to  the  glowing  log,  and,  as  if  in  ominous 
foreshadow,  it  flared  brightly  and  crumbled  away  in  a 
burst  of  sparks. 

"  It  is  marvellous,"  he  went  on,  dismissing  the  fu 
ture  in  an  effort  to  shake  himself  into  a  wholesomer 
frame  of  mind.  "  It  lias  been  one  long  continuous 
miracle,  the  last  few  months,  since  you  have  been  with 
me.  We  have  seen  very  little  of  each  other,  you  know, 
since  your  childhood,  and  when  I  think  upon  it  soberly 
it  is  hard  to  realize  that  you  are  really  mine,  sprung 
from  me,  my  bone  and  flesh  of  my  flesh.  As 

the  tangJc-1  [  wild  young  creature  of  Dyea, — a 
healthy,  ^itural  animal  and  nothing  more, — if 

175 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

required  no  imagination  to  accept  you  as  one  of  the 
breed  of  Welse.  But  as  Frona,  the  woman,  as  you 
were  to-night,  as  you  are  now  as  I  look  at  you,  as  you 
have  been  since  you  came  down  the  Yukon,  it  is  hard 
...  .  I  cannot  realize  ....  I  .  ..."  He 
faltered  and  threw  up  his  hands  helplessly.  "  I  almost 
wish  that  I  had  given  you  no  education,  that  I  had  kept 
you  with  me,  faring  with  me,  adventuring  with  me, 
achieving  with  me,  and  failing  with  me.  I  would  have 
known  you,  now,  as  we  sit  by  the  fire.  As  it  is,  I  do 
not.  To  that  which  I  did  know  there  has  been  added, 
somehow  (what  shall  I  call  it?),  a  subtlety,  com 
plexity, — favorite  words  of  yours, — which  is  beyond 
me. 

"  No."  He  waved  the  speech  abruptly  from  her  lips. 
She  came  over  and  knelt  at  his  feet,  resting  her  head 
on  his  knee  and  clasping  his  hand  in  firm  sympathy. 
"  No,  that  is  not  true.  Those  are  not  the  words.  I 
cannot  find  them.  I  fail  to  say  what  I  feel.  Let  me 
try  again.  Underneath  all  you  do  carry  the  stamp  of 
the  breed.  I  knew  I  risked  the  loss  of  that  when  I 
sent  you  away,  but  I  had  faith  in  the  persistence  of 
the  blood  and  I  took  the  chance;  doubted  and  feared 
when  you  were  gone ;  waited  and  prayed  dumbly,  and 
hoped  oftentimes  hopelessly ;  and  then  the  day  dawned, 
the  day  of  days !  When  they  said  your  boat  was 
coming,  death  rose  and  walked  on  the  one  hand  of 
me,  and  on  the  other  life  everlasting.  Made  or  marred; 
made  or  marred, — the  words  rang  through  my  brain 
till  they  maddened  rne.  Would  the  Welse  remain  the 
Welse?  Would  the  blood  persist?  Would  the  young 
shoot  rise  straight  and  tall  and  strong,  green  with  sap 
and  fresh  and  vigorous  ?  Or  would  it  droop  limp  and 

176 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE    SNOWS 

lifeless,  withered  by  the  heats  of  the  world  other  than 
the  little  simple,  natural  Dyea  world? 

"  It  was  the  day  of  days,  and  yet  it  was  a  lingering, 
watching,  waiting  tragedy.  You  know  I  had  lived  the 
years  lonely,  fought  the  lone  fight,  and  you,  away,  the 
only  kin.  If  it  had  failed  ....  But  your  boat 
shot  from  the  bluffs  into  the  open,  and  I  was  half- 
afraid  to  look.  Men  have  never  called  me  coward, 
but  I  was  nearer  the  coward  then  than  ever  and  all 
before.  Ay,  that  moment  I  had  faced  death  easier. 
And  it  was  foolish,  absurd.  How  could  I  know 
whether  it  was  for  good  or  ill  when  you  drifted  a 
distant  speck  on  the  river?  Still,  I  looked,  and  the 
miracle  began,  for  I  did  know.  You  stood  at  the 
steering-sweep.  You  were  a  Welse.  It  seems  so 
little;  in  truth  it  meant  so  much.  It  was  not  to  be 
expected  of  a  mere  woman,  but  of  a  Welse,  yes.  And 
when  Bishop  went  over  the  side,  and  you  gripped  the 
situation  as  imperatively  as  the  sweep,  and  your  voice 
rang  out,  and  the  Siwashes  bent  their  backs  to  your 
will, — then  was  it  the  day  of  days." 

"  I  tried  always,  and  remembered,"  Frona  whis 
pered.  She  crept  up  softly  till  her  arm  was  about  his 
neck  and  her  head  against  his  breast.  He  rested  one 
arm  lightly  on  her  body,  and  poured  her  bright  hair 
again  and  again  from  his  hand  in  glistening  waves. 

"  As  I  said,  the  stamp  of  the  breed  was  unmarred, 
but  there  was  yet  a  difference.  There  is  a  difference. 
I  have  watched  it,  studied  it,  tried  to  make  it  out.  I 
have  sat  at  table,  proud  by  the  side  of  you,  but 
dwarfed.  When  you  talked  of  little  things  I  was  large 
enough  to  follow;  when  of  big  things,  too  small.  I 
knew  you,  had  my  hand  on  you,  when  presto !  and  you 
12  177 


A   DAUGHTER   OF  THE   SNOWS 

were  away,  gone — I  was  lost.  He  is  a  fool  who  knows 
not  his  own  ignorance;  I  was  wise  enough  to  know 
mine.  Art,  poetry,  music, — what  do  I  know  of  them? 
And  they  were  the  great  things,  are  the  great  things 
to  you,  mean  more  to  you  than  the  little  things  I 
may  comprehend.  And  I  had  hoped,  blindly,  fool 
ishly,  that  we  might  be  one  in  the  spirit  as  well  as  the 
one  flesh.  It  has  been  bitter,  but  I  have  faced  it,  and 
understand.  But  to  see  my  own  red  blood  get  away 
from  me,  elude  me,  rise  above  me!  It  stuns.  God! 
I  have  heard  you  read  from  your  Browning — no,  no; 
do  not  speak — and  watched  the  play  of  your  face,  the 
uplift  and  the  passion  of  it,  and  all  the  while  the  words 
droning  in  upon  me,  meaningless,  musical,  madden 
ing.  And  Mrs.  Schoville  sitting  there,  nursing  an  ex 
pression  of  idiotic  ecstasy,  and  understanding  no  more 
than  I.  I  could  have  strangled  her. 

"  Why,  I  have  stolen  away,  at  night,  with '  your 
Browning,  and  locked  myself  in  like  a  thief  in  fear. 
The  text  was  senseless.  I  have  beaten  my  head  with 
my  fist  like  a  wild  man,  to  try  and  knock  some  compre 
hension  into  it.  For  my  life  had  worked  itself  out 
along  one  set  groove,  deep  and  narrow.  I  was  in  the 
rut.  I  had  clone  those  things  which  came  to  my  hand 
and  done  them  well;  but  the  time  was  past;  I  could 
not  turn  my  hand  anew.  I,  who  am  strong  and  domi 
nant,  who  have  played  large  with  destiny,  who  could 
buy  body  and  soul  a  thousand  painters  and  versifiers, 
was  baffled  by  a  few  paltry  cents'  worth  of  printed 
paper !" 

He  spilled  her  hair  for  a  moment's  silence 
"  To  come  back.     I  had  attempted  the  i        ssible, 
gambled  against  the  inevitable.     I  had  s<  ;rom 

178 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE   SNOWS 

me  to  get  that  which  I  had  not,  dreaming  that  we 
would  still  be  one.  As  though  two  could  be  added  to 
two  and  still  remain  two.  So,  to  sum  up,  the  breed 
still  holds,  but  you  have  learned  an  alien  tongue. 
When  you  speak  it  I  am  deaf.  And  bitterest  of  all,  I 
know  that  the  new  tongue  is  the  greater.  I  do  not 
know  why  I  -have  said  all  this,  made  my  confession  of 
weakness " 

"  Oh,  father  mine,  greatest  of  men !"  She  raised 
her  head  and  laughed  into  his  eyes,  the  while  brush 
ing  back  the  thick  iron-gray  hair  which  thatched  the 
dome  of  his  forehead.  "  You,  who  have  wrestled  more 
mightily,  done  greater  things  than  these  painters  and 
versifiers.  You  who  know  so  well  the  law  of  change. 
Might  not  the  same  plaint  fall  from  your  father's  lips 
were  he  to  sit  now  beside  you  and  look  upon  your 
work  and  you?" 

"  Yes,  yes.  I  have  said  that  I  understand.  Do  not 
let  us  discuss  it  ....  a  moment's  weakness.  My 
father  was  a  great  man." 

"And  so  mine." 

"  A  struggler  to  the  end  of  his  days.  He  fought 
the  great  lone  fight " 

"  And  so  mine." 

"  And  died  fighting." 

"  And  so  shall  mine.     So  shall  we  all,  we  Welses." 

He  shook  her  playfully,  in  token  of  returning  spirits. 
"  But  I  intend  to  sell  out, — mines,  Company,  every 
thing, — and  study  Browning." 

"Still  the  fight  You  can't  discount  the  blood, 
father." 

"  Why  were  you  not  a  boy  ?"  he  demanded,  ab 
ruptly.  "  You  would  have  been  a  splendid  one.  As 

179 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE    SNOWS 

it  is,  a  woman,  made  to  be  the  delight  of  some 
you  must  pass  from  me — to-morrow,  next  day, 
time  next  year,  who  knows  how  soon?    Ah! 
know  the  direction  my  thought  has  been  tre 
Just  as  I  know  you  do,  so  do  I  recognize  the 
tableness  of  it  and  the  justness.    But  the  man,  Frona, 
the  man?" 

"  Don't,"  she  demurred.  "  Tell  me  of  your  father's 
fight,  the  last  fight,  the  great  lone  fight  at  Treasure 
City.  Ten  to  one  it  was,  and  well  fought.  Tell  me." 

"  No,  Frona.  Do  you  realize  that  for  the  first  time 
in  our  lives  we  talk  together  seriously,  as  father  and 
daughter, — for  the  first  time?  You  have  had  no 
mother  to  advise;  no  father,  for  I  trusted  the  blood, 
and  wisely,  and  let  you  go.  But  there  comes  a  time 
when  the  mother's  counsel  is  needed,  and  you,  you 
who  never  knew  one?" 

Frona  yielded,  in  instant  recognition,  and  waiting, 
snuggled  more  closely  to  him. 

"  This  man,  St.  Vincent — how  is  it  between  you  ?" 

"  I   .    .    .    .   I  do  not  know.    How  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  Remember  always,  Frona,  that  you  have  free 
choice,  yours  is  the  last  word.  Still,  I  would  like 
to  understand.  I  could  ....  perhaps  ....  I 
might  be  able  to  suggest.  But  nothing  more.  Still, 
a  suggestion  .  .  .  ." 

There  was  something  inexpressibly  sacred  about  it, 
yet  she  found  herself  tongue-tied.    Instead  of  the  one 
definite  thing  to  say,  a  muddle  of  ideas  fluttered  in  her 
brain.     After  all,  could  he  understand?     Was  t 
not  a  difference  which  prevented  him  from  con 
bending  the  motives  which,  for  her,  were  impelling 
For  all  her  harking  back  to  the  primitive  and 

180 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

defence  of  its  sanity  and  truth,  did  his  native  philoso 
phy  give  him  the  same  code  which  she  drew  from 
her  acquired  philosophy?  Then  she  stood  aside  and 
regarded  herself  and  the  queries  she  put,  and  drew 
apart  from  them,  for  they  breathed  of  treason. 

"  There  is  nothing  between  us,  father,"  she  spoke  up 
resolutely.  "  Mr.  St.  Vincent  has  said  nothing,  noth 
ing.  We  are  good  friends,  we  like  each  other,  we  are 
very  good  friends.  I  think  that  is  all." 

"  But  you  like  each  other ;  you  like  him.  Is  it  in  the 
way  a  woman  must  like  a  man  before  she  can  honestly 
share  her  life  with  him,  lose  herself  in  him?  Do  you 
feel  with  Ruth,  so  that  when  the  time  comes  you  can 
say,  '  Thy  people  are  my  people,  and  thy  God  my 
God'?" 

"  N — o.  It  may  be ;  but  I  cannot,  dare  not  face  it, 
say  it  or  not  say  it,  think  it  or  not  think  it — now.  It 
is  the  great  affirmation.  When  it  comes  it  must  come 
no  one  may  know  how  or  why,  in  a  great  white  flash, 
like  a  revelation,  hiding  nothing,  revealing  everything 
in  dazzling,  blinding  truth.  At  least  I  so  imagine." 

Jacob  Welse  nodded  his  head  with  the  slow  medi 
tation  of  one  who  understands,  yet  stops  to  ponder  and 
weigh  again. 

"  But  why  have  you  asked,  father  ?  Why  has  Mr. 
St.  Vincent  been  raised?  I  have  been  friends  with 
other  men." 

"  But  I  have  not  felt  about  other  men  as  I  do  of  St. 
Vincent.  We  may  be  truthful,  you  and  I,  and  forgive 
the  pain  we  give  each  other.  My  opinion  counts  for 
no  more  than  another's.  Fallibility  is  the  commonest 
of  curses.  Nor  can  I  explain  why  I  feel  as  I  do — I 
suppose  much  in  the  way  you  expect  to  when  your 

181 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

great  white  flash  sears  your  eyes.  But,  in  a  word,  I 
do  not  like  St.  Vincent." 

"  A  very  common  judgment  of  him  among  the 
men,"  Frona  interposed,  driven  irresistibly  to  the 
defensive. 

"  Such  consensus  of  opinion  only  makes  my  posi 
tion  stronger,"  he  returned,  but  not  disputatively. 
"Yet  I  must  remember  that  I  look  upon  him  as  men 
look.  His  popularity  with  women  must  proceed  from 
the  fact  that  women  look  differently  than  men,  just  as 
women  do  differ  physically  and  spiritually  from  men. 
It  is  deep,  too  deep  for  me  to  explain.  I  but  follow 
my  nature  and  try  to  be  just." 

"  But  have  you  nothing  more  definite  ?"  she  asked, 
groping  for  better  comprehension  of  his  attitude. 
"  Can  you  not  put  into  some  sort  of  coherence  some 
one  certain  thing  of  the  things  you  feel  ?" 

"  I  hardly  dare.  Intuitions  can  rarely  be  expressed 
in  terms  of  thought.  But  let  me  try.  We  Welses  have 
never  known  a  coward.  And  where  cowardice  is,  noth 
ing  can  endure.  It  is  like  building  on  sand,  or  like  a 
vile  disease  which  rots  and  rots  and  we  know  not  when 
it  may  break  forth." 

"  But  it  seems  to  me  that  Mr.  St.  Vincent  is  the  last 
man  in  the  world  with  whom  cowardice  may  be  asso 
ciated.  I  cannot  conceive  of  him  in  that  light." 

The  distress  in  her  face  hurt  him.  "  I  know  noftiing 
against  St.  Vincent.  There  is  no  evidence  to  show 
that  he  is  anything  but  what  he  appears.  Still,  I  can 
not  help  feeling  it,  in  my  fallible  human  way.  Yet 
there  is  one  thing  I  have  heard,  a  sordid  pot-house 
brawl  in  the  Opera  House.  Mind  you,  Frona,  I  say 
nothing  against  the  brawl  or  the  place, — men  are  men, 

182 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE    SNOWS 

— but  it  is  said  that  he  did  not  act  as  a  man  ought 
that  night." 

"  But  as  you  say,  father,  men  are  men.  We  would 
like  to  have  them  other  than  they  are,  for  the  world 
surely  would  be  better;  but  we  must  take  them  as 
they  are.  Lucile " 

"  No,  no ;  you  misunderstand.  I  did  not  refer  to 
her,  but  to  the  fight.  He  did  not  ....  he  was  cow 
ardly." 

"  But  as  you  say,  it  is  said.  He  told  me  about  it,  not 
long  afterwards,  and  I  do  not  think  he  would  have 
dared  had  there  been  anything " 

"  But  I  do  not  make  it  as  a  charge,"  Jacob  Welse 
hastily  broke  in.  "  Merely  hearsay,  and  the  prejudice 
of  the  men  would  be  sufficient  to  account  for  the  tale. 
And  it  has  no  bearing,  anyway.  I  should  not  have 
brought  it  up,  for  I  have  known  good  men  funk  in  my 
time — buck  fever,  as  it  were.  And  now  let  us  dismiss 
it  all  from  our  minds.  I  merely  wished  to  suggest, 
and  I  suppose  I  have  bungled.  But  understand  this, 
Frona,"  turning  her  face  up  to  his,  "  understand 
above  all  things  and  in  spite  of  them,  first,  last,  and 
always,  that  you  are  my  daughter,  and  that  I  believe 
your  life  is  sacredly  yours,  not  mine,  yours  to  deal 
with  and  to  make  or  mar.  Your  life  is  yours  to  live, 
and  in  so  far  that  I  influence  it  you  will  not  have  lived 
your  life,  nor  would  your  life  have  been  yours.  Nor 
would  you  have  been  a  Welse,  for  there  was  never  a 
Welse  yet  who  suffered  dictation.  They  died  first,  or 
went  away  to  pioneer  on  the  edge  of  things. 

"  Why,  if  you  thought  the  dance  house  the  proper 
or  natural  medium  for  self-expression,  I  might  be  sad, 
but  to-morrow  I  would  sanction  your  going  down  to 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

the  Opera  House.  It  would  be  unwise  to  stop  you, 
and,  further,  it  is  not  our  way.  The  Welses  have  ever 
stood  by,  in  many  a  lost  cause  and  forlorn  hope,  knee 
to  knee  and  shoulder  to  shoulder.  Conventions  are 
worthless  for  such  as  we.  They  are  for  the  swine  who 
without  them  would  wallow  deeper.  The  weak  must 
obey  or  be  crushed ;  not  so  with  the  strong.  The  mass 
is  nothing;  the  individual  everything;  and  it  is  the 
individual,  always,  that  rules  the  mass  and  gives  the 
law.  A  fig  for  what  the  world  says!  If  the  Welse 
should  procreate  a  bastard  line  this  day,  it  would  be 
the  way  of  the  Welse,  and  you  would  be  a  daughter 
of  the  Welse,  and  in  the  face  of  hell  and  heaven,  of 
God  himself,  we  would  stand  together,  we  of  the  one 
blood,  Frona,  you  and  I." 

'''  You  are  larger  than  I,"  she  whispered,  kissing  his 
forehead,  and  the  caress  of  her  lips  seemed  to  him  the 
soft  impact  of  a  leaf  falling  through  the  still  autumn 
air. 

And  as  the  heat  of  the  room  ebbed  away,  he  told  of 
her  foremother  and  of  his,  and  of  the  sturdy  Welse 
who  fought  the  great  lone  fight,  and  died,  fighting,  at 
Treasure  City. 


184 


CHAPTER  XVIII 


THE  "Doll's  House"  was  a  success.  Mrs.  Scho- 
ville  ecstasized  over  it  in  terms  so  immeasurable,  so 
unqualifiable,  that  Jacob  Welse,  standing  near,  bent  a 
glittering  gaze  upon  her  plump  white  throat  and  un 
consciously  clutched  and  closed  his  hand  on  an  invis 
ible  windpipe.  Dave  Harney  proclaimed  its  excellence 
effusively,  though  he  questioned  the  soundness  of 
Nora's  philosophy  and  swore  by  his  Puritan  gods  that 
Torvald  was  the  longest-eared  jack  in  two  hemi 
spheres.  Even  Miss  Mortimer,  antagonistic  as  she 
was  to  the  whole  school,  conceded  that  the  players 
had  redeemed  it;  while  Matt  McCarthy  announced 
that  he  didn't  blame  Nora  darlin'  the  least  bit,  though 
he  told  the  Gold  Commissioner  privately  that  a  song 
or  so  and  a  skirt  dance  wouldn't  have  hurt  the  per 
formance. 

"  Iv  course  the  Nora  girl  was  right,"  he  insisted  to 
Harney,  both  of  whom  were  walking  on  the  heels  of 
Frona  and  St.  Vincent.  "  I'd  be  seein' " 

"  Rubber " 

"Rubber  yer  gran'mother !"  Matt  wrathfully  ex 
claimed. 

"  Ez  I  was  sayin',"  Harney  continued,  imperturba- 
bly,  "  rubber  boots  is  goin'  to  go  sky-high  'bout  the 
time  of  wash-up.  Three  ounces  the  pair,  an'  you  kin 
put  your  chips  on  that  for  a  high  card.  You  kin 

185 


A   DAUGHTER   OF  THE   SNOWS 

gather  'em  in  now  for  an  ounce  a  pair  and  clear  two 
on  the  deal.  A  cinch,  Matt,  a  dead  open  an'  shut." 

"  The  devil  take  you  an'  yer  cinches !  It's  Nora 
darlin'  I  have  in  me  mind  the  while." 

They  bade  good-by  to  Frona  and  St.  Vincent  and 
went  off  disputing  under  the  stars  in  the  direction  of 
the  Opera  House. 

Gregory  St.  Vincent  heaved  an  audible  sigh.  "At 
last." 

"  At  last  what  ?"  Frona  asked,  incuriously. 

"  At  last  the  first  opportunity  for  me  to  tell  you 
how  well  you  did.  You  carried  off  the  final  scene 
wonderfully;  so  well  that  it  seemed  you  were  really 
passing  out  of  my  life  forever." 

"  What  a  misfortune !" 

"  It  was  terrible." 

"  No." 

"  But,  yes.  I  took  the  whole  condition  upon  myself. 
You  were  not  Nora,  you  were  Frona;  nor  I  Torvald, 
but  Gregory.  When  you  made  your  exit,  capped  and 
jacketed  and  travelling-bag  in  hand,  it  seemed  I  could 
not  possibly  stay  and  finish  my  lines.  And  when  the 
door  slammed  and  you  were  gone,  the  only  thing  that 
saved  me  was  the  curtain.  It  brought  me  to  myself, 
or  else  I  would  have  rushed  after  you  in  the  face  of  the 
audience." 

"  It  is  strange  how  a  simulated  part  may  react  upon 
one,"  Frona  speculated. 

"  Or  rather  ?"  St.  Vincent  suggested. 

Frona  made  no  answer,  and  they  walked  on  without 
speech.  She  was  still  under  the  spell  of  the  evening, 
and  the  exaltation  which  had  come  to  her  as  Nora 
had  not  yet  departed.  Besides,  she  read  between  the 

186 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE   SNOWS 

lines  of  St.  Vincent's  conversation,  and  was  oppressed 
by  the  timidity  which  comes  over  woman  when  she 
faces  man  on  the  verge  of  the  greater  intimacy. 

It  was  a  clear,  cold  night,  not  over-cold, — not  more 
than  forty  below, — and  the  land  was  bathed  in  a  soft, 
diffused  flood  of  light  which  found  its  source  not  in 
the  stars,  nor  yet  in  the  moon,  which  was  somewhere 
over  on  the  other  side  of  the  world.  From  the  south 
east  to  the  northwest  a  pale-greenish  glow  fringed  the 
rim  of  the  heavens,  and  it  was  from  this  the  dim  radi 
ance  was  exhaled. 

Suddenly,  like  the  ray  of  a  search-light,  a  band  of 
white  light  ploughed  overhead.  Night  turned  to 
ghostly  day  on  the  instant,  then  blacker  night  de 
scended.  But  to  the  southeast  a  noiseless  commotion 
was  apparent.  The  glowing  greenish  gauze  was  in  a 
ferment,  bubbling,  uprearing,  downfalling,  and  tenta 
tively  thrusting  huge  bodiless  hands  into  the  upper 
ether.  Once  more  a  cyclopean  rocket  twisted  its  fiery 
way  across  the  sky,  from  horizon  to  zenith,  and  on, 
and  on,  in  tremendous  flight,  to  horizon  again.  But 
the  span  could  not  hold,  and  in  its  wake  the  black 
night  brooded.  And  yet  again,  broader,  stronger, 
deeper,  lavishly  spilling  streamers  to  right  and  left, 
it  flaunted  the  midmost  zenith  with  its  gorgeous  flare, 
and  passed  on  and  down  to  the  further  edge  of  the 
world.  Heaven  was  bridged  at  last,  and  the  bridge 
endured ! 

At  this  flaming  triumph  the  silence  of  earth  was 
broken,  and  ten  thousand  wolf-dogs,  in  long-drawn 
unisoned  howls,  sobbed  their  dismay  and  grief.  Frona 
shivered,  and  St.  Vincent  passed  his  arm  about  her 
waist.  The  woman  in  her  was  aware  of  the  touch  of 

187 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

man,  and  of  a  slight  tingling  thrill  of  vague  delight; 
but  she  made  no  resistance.  And  as  the  wolf-dogs 
mourned  at  her  feet  and  the  aurora  wantoned  over 
head,  she  felt  herself  drawn  against  him  closely. 

"  Need  I  tell  my  story  ?"  he  whispered. 

She  drooped  her  head  in  tired  content  on  his  shoul 
der,  and  together  they  watched  the  burning  vault 
wherein  the  stars  dimmed  and  vanished.  Ebbing, 
flowing,  pulsing  to  some  tremendous  rhythm,  the 
prism  colors  hurled  themselves  in  luminous  deluge 
across  the  firmament.  Then  the  canopy  of  heaven 
became  a  mighty  loom,  wherein  imperial  purple  and 
deep  sea-green  blended,  wove,  and  interwove,  with 
blazing  woof  and  flashing  warp,  till  the  most  delicate 
of  tulles,  fluorescent  and  bewildering,  was  daintily  and 
airily  shaken  in  the  face  of  the  astonished  night. 

Without  warning  the  span  was  sundered  by  an  arro 
gant  arm  of  black.  The  arch  dissolved  in  blushing 
confusion.  Chasms  of  blackness  yawned,  grew,  and 
rushed  together.  Broken  masses  of  strayed  color  and 
fading  fire  stole  timidly  towards  the  sky-line.  Then 
the  dome  of  night  towered  imponderable,  immense, 
and  the  stars  came  back  one  by  one,  and  the  wolf-dogs 
mourned  anew. 

"  I  can  offer  you  so  little,  dear,"  the  man  said  with 
a  slightly  perceptible  bitterness.  "  The  precarious 
fortunes  of  a  gypsy  wanderer." 

And  the  woman,  placing  his  hand  and  pressing  it 
against  her  heart,  said,  as  a  great  woman  had  said 
before  her,  "  A  tent  and  a  crust  of  bread  with  you, 
Richard." 


188 


CHAPTER  XIX 


HOW-HA  was  only  an  Indian  woman,  bred  of  a 
long  line  of  fish-eating,  meat-rending  carnivora,  and 
her  ethics  were  as  crude  and  simple  as  her  blood.  But 
long  contact  with  the  whites  had  given  her  an  insight 
into  their  way  of  looking  at  things,  and  though  she 
grunted  contemptuously  in  her  secret  soul,  she  none 
the  less  understood  their  way  perfectly.  Ten  years 
previous  she  had  cooked  for  Jacob  Welse,  and  served 
him  in  one  fashion  or  another  ever  since;  and  when 
on  a  dreary  January  morning  she  opened  the  front 
door  in  response  to  the  deep-tongued  knocker,  even 
her  stolid  presence  was  shaken  as  she  recognized  the 
visitor.  Not  that  the  average  man  or  woman  would 
have  so  recognized.  But  How-ha's  faculties  of  ob 
serving  and  remembering  details  had  been  developed 
in  a  hard  school  where  death  dealt  his  blow  to  the  lax 
and  life  saluted  the  vigilant. 

How-ha  looked  up  and.  down  the  woman  who  stood 
before  her.  Through  the  heavy  veil  she  could  barely 
distinguish  the  flash  of  the  eyes,  while  the  hood 
of  the  parka  effectually  concealed  the  hair,  and  the 
parka  proper  the  particular  outlines  of  the  body.  But 
How-ha  paused  and  looked  again.  There  was  some 
thing  familiar  in  the  vague  general  outline.  She 
quested  back  to  the  shrouded  head  again,  and  knew 
the  unmistakable  poise.  Then  How-ha's  eyes  went 

189 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE    SNOWS 

blear  as  she  traversed  the  simple  windings  of  her  own 
brain,  inspecting  the  bare  shelves  taciturnly  stored 
with  the  impressions  of  a  meagre  life.  No  disorder; 
no  confused  mingling  of  records;  no  devious  and 
interminable  impress  of  complex  emotions,  tangled 
theories,  and  bewildering  abstractions  —  nothing  but 
simple  facts,  neatly  classified  and  conveniently  collated. 
Unerringly  from  the  stores  of  the  past  she  picked 
and  chose  and  put  together  in  the  instant  present, 
till  obscurity  dropped  from  the  woman  before  her, 
and  she  knew  her,  word  and  deed  and  look  and 
history. 

"  Much  better  you  go  'way  quickety-quick/'  How-ha 
informed  her. 

"  Miss  Welse.    I  wish  to  see  her." 

The  strange  woman  spoke  in  firm,  even  tones  which 
betokened  the  will  behind,  but  which  failed  to  move 
How-ha. 

"  Much  better  you  go,"  she  repeated,  stolidly. 

"  Here,  take  this  to  Frona  Welse,  and — ah !  would 
you!"  (thrusting  her  knee  between  the  door  and 
jamb)  "  and  leave  the  door  open." 

How-ha  scowled,  but  took  the  note;  for  she  could 
not  shake  off  the  grip  of  the  ten  years  of  servitude  to 
the  superior  race. 

May  I  see  you? 

LUCILE. 

So  the  note  ran.  Frona  glanced  up  expectantly  at 
the  Indian  woman. 

"  Um  kick  toes  outside,"  How-ha  explained.  "  Me 
tell  um  go  'way  quickety-quick  ?  Eh  ?  You  t'ink  yes  ? 
Um  no  good.  Um — r— " 

\  "" 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE   SNOWS 

"  No.  Take  her," — Frona  was  thinking  quickly, — 
"  no ;  bring  her  up  here." 

"Much  better " 

"Go!" 

How-ha  grunted,  and  yielded  up  the  obedience  she 
could  not  withhold;  though,  as  she  went  down  the 
stairs  to  the  door,  in  a  tenebrous,  glimmering  way  she 
wondered  that  the  accident  of  white  skin  or  swart 
made  master  or  servant  as  the  case  might  be. 

In  the  one  sweep  of  vision,  Lucile  took  in  Frona 
smiling  with  extended  hand  in  the  foreground,  the 
dainty  dressing-table,  the  simple  finery,  the  thousand 
girlish  evidences;  and  with  the  sweet  wholesomeness 
of  it  pervading  her  nostrils,  her  own  girlhood  rose  up 
and  smote  her.  Then  she  turned  a  bleak  eye  and  cold 
ear  on  outward  things. 

"  I  am  glad  you  came,"  Frona  was  saying.  "  I  have 
so  wanted  to  see  you  again,  and  —  but  do  get  that 
heavy  parka  off,  please.  How  thick  it  is,  and  what 
splendid  fur  and  workmanship!" 

"  Yes,  from  Siberia."  A  present  from  St.  Vin 
cent,  Lucile  felt  like  adding,  but  said  instead,  "  The 
Siberians  have  not  yet  learned  to  scamp  their  work, 
you  know." 

She  sank  down  into  the  low-seated  rocker  with  a 
native  grace  which  could  not  escape  the  beauty-loving 
eye  of  the  girl,  and  with  proud-poised  head  and  silent 
tongue  listened  to  Frona  as  the  minutes  ticked  away, 
and  observed  with  impersonal  amusement  Frona's 
painful  toil  at  making  conversation. 

"What  has  she  come  for?"  Frona  asked  herself, 
as  she  talked  on  furs  and  weather  and  indifferent 
things. 

191 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

"  If  you  do  not  say  something,  Lucile,  I  shall  get 
nervous,  soon,"  she  ventured  at  last  in  desperation. 
"  Has  anything  happened  ?" 

Lucile  went  over  to  the  mirror  and  picked  up,  from 
among  the  trinkets  beneath,  a  tiny  open-work  minia 
ture  of  Frona.  "  This  is  you  ?  How  old  were  you  ?" 

"  Sixteen." 

"  A  sylph,  but  a  cold  northern  one." 

"  The  blood  warms  late  with  us,"  Frona  reproved : 
"but  is " 

"  None  the  less  warm  for  that,"  Lucile  laughed, 
"  And  how  old  are  you  now  ?" 

"  Twenty." 

"  Twenty,"  Lucile  repeated,  slowly.  "  Twenty,"  and 
resumed  her  seat.  "  You  are  twenty.  And  I  arr 
twenty-four." 

"  So  little  difference  as  that !" 

"  But  our  blood  warms  early."  Lucile  voiced  hei 
reproach  across  the  unfathomable  gulf  which  four 
years  could  not  plumb. 

Frona  could  hardly  hide  her  vexation.  Lucile  wenl 
over  and  looked  at  the  miniature  again  and  returned. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  love  ?"  she  asked  abruptly 
her  face  softening  unheralded  into  a  smile. 

"  Love  ?"  the  girl  quavered. 

"Yes,  love.  What  do  you  know  about  it?  Whal 
do  you  think  of  it?" 

A  flood  of  definitions,  glowing  and  rosy,  sped  tc 
her  tongue,  but  Frona  swept  them  aside  and  answered 
"  Love  is  immolation." 

"Very  good — sacrifice.    And,  now,  does  it  pay?" 

"  Yesr  it  pays.  Of  course  it  pays.  Wrho  can  doubt  it?' 

Lucile's  eyes  twinkled  amusedly. 
192 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

"  Why  do  you  smile  ?"   Frona  asked. 

"  Look  at  me,  Frona."  Lucile  stood  up  and  her  face 
blazed.  "  I  am  twenty-four.  Not  altogether  a  fright ; 
not  altogether  a  dunce.  I  have  a  heart.  I  have  good 
red  blood  and  warm.  And  I  have  loved.  I  do  not 
remember  the  pay.  I  know  only  that  I  have  paid." 

"  And  in  the  paying  were  paid,"  Frona  took  up 
warmly.  "  The  price  was  the  reward.  If  love  be  fal 
lible,  yet  you  have  loved;  you  have  done,  you  have 
served.  What  more  would  you?" 

"  The  whelpage  love,"  Lucile  sneered. 

"Oh!    You  are  unfair." 

"  I  do  you  justice,"  Lucile  insisted  firmly.  "  You 
would  tell  me  that  you  know ;  that  you  have  gone  un 
veiled  and  seen  clear-eyed ;  that  without  placing  more 
than  lips  to  the  brim  you  have  divined  the  taste  of  the 
dregs,  and  that  the  taste  is  good.  Bah!  The  whelp- 
age  love!  And,  oh,  Frona,  I  know;  you  are  full 
womanly  and  broad,  and  lend  no  ear  to  little  things, 
but" — she  tapped  a  slender  finger  to  forehead — "  it  is 
all  here.  It  is  a  heady  brew,  and  you  have  smelled  the 
fumes  overmuch.  But  drain  the  dregs,  turn  down  the 
glass,  and  say  that  it  is  good.  No,  God  forbid!" 
she  cried,  passionately.  "  There  are  good  loves. 
You  should  find  no  masquerade,  but  one  fair  and 
shining." 

Frona  was  up  to  her  old  trick, — their  common  one, 
— and  her  hand  slid  down  Lucile's  arm  till  hand  clasped 
in  hand.  "  You  say  things  which  I  feel  are  wrong, 
yet  may  not  answer.  I  can,  but  how  dare  I?  I  dare 
not  put  mere  thoughts  against  your  facts.  I,  who  have 
lived  so  little,  cannot  in  theory  give  the  lie  to  you  who 

have  lived  so  much " 

13  193 


A   DAUGHTER   OF  THE   SNOWS 

" '  For  he  who  lives  more  lives  than  one,  more  lives 
than  one  must  die.' ': 

From  out  of  her  pain,  Lucile  spoke  the  words  of  her 
pain,  and  Frona,  throwing  arms  about  her,  sobbed  on 
her  breast  in  understanding.  As  for  Lucile,  the  slight 
nervous  ingathering  of  the  brows  above  her  eyes 
smoothed  out,  and  she  pressed  the  kiss  of  motherhood, 
lightly  and  secretly,  on  the  other's  hair.  For  a  space, 
— then  the  brows  ingathered,  the  lips  drew  firm,  and 
she  put  Frona  from  her. 

"  You  are  going  to  marry  Gregory  St.  Vincent  ?" 

Frona  was  startled.  It  was  only  a  fortnight  old,  and 
not  a  word  had  been  breathed.  "  How  do  you  know  ?" 

"  You  have  answered."  Lucile  watched  Frona's 
open  face  and  the  bold  running  advertisement,  and  felt 
as  the  skilled  fencer  who  fronts  a  tyro,  weak  of  wrist, 
each  opening  naked  to  his  hand.  "  How  do  I  know  ?" 
She  laughed  harshly.  "  When  a  man  leaves  one's 
arms  suddenly,  lips  wet  with  last  kisses  and  mouth 
areek  with  last  lies !" 

"And ?" 

"  Forgets  the  way  back  to  those  arms." 

"  So  ?"  The  blood  of  the  Welse  pounded  up,  and 
like  a  hot  sun  dried  the  mists  from  her  eyes  and  left 
them  flashing.  "  Then  that  is  why  you  came.  I  could 
have  guessed  it  had  I  given  second  thought  to  Daw- 
son's  gossip." 

"  It  is  not  too  late."  Lucile's  lip  curled.  "  And  it 
is  your  way." 

"And  I  am  mindful.  What  is  it?  Do  you  intend 
telling  me  what  he  has  done,  what  he  has  been  to  you? 
Let  me  say  that  it  is  useless.  He  is  a  man,  as  you 
and  I  are  women/' 

194 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

"  No,"  Lucile  lied,  swallowing  her  astonishment. 
"  I  had  not  thought  that  any  action  of  his  would  affect 
you.  I  knew  you  were  too  great  for  that.  But — have 
you  considered  me  ?" 

Frona  caught  her  breath  for  a  moment.  Then  she 
straightened  out  her  arms  to  hold  the  man  in  challenge 
to  the  arms  of  Lucile. 

"  Your  father  over  again !"  Lucile  exclaimed.  "  Oh, 
you  impossible  Welses!" 

"  But  he  is  not  worthy  of  you,  Frona  Welse,"  she 
continued ;  "  of  me,  yes.  He  is  not  a  nice  man,  a  great 
man,  nor  a  good.  His  love  cannot  match  with  yours. 
Bah !  He  does  not  possess  love ;  passion,  of  one  sort 
and  another,  is  the  best  he  may  lay  claim  to.  That  you 
do  not  want.  It  is  all,  at  the  best,  he  can  give 
you.  And  you,  pray  what  may  you  give  him? 
Yourself?  A  prodigious  waste!  But  your  father's 
yellow " 

"  Don't  go  on,  or  I  shall  refuse  to  listen.  It  is  wrong 
of  you."  So  Frona  made  her  cease,  and  then,  with  bold 
inconsistency,  "  And  what  may  the  woman  Lucile  give 
him?" 

"  Some  few  wild  moments,"  was  the  prompt  re 
sponse  ;  "  a  burning  burst  of  happiness,  and  the  regrets 
of  hell — which  latter  he  deserves,  as  do  I.  So  the 
balance  is  maintained,  and  all  is  well." 

"  But— but " 

"  For  there  is  a  devil  in  him,"  she  held  on,  "  a  most 
alluring  devil,  which  delights  me,  on  my  soul  it  does, 
and  which,  pray  God,  Frona,  you  may  never  know.  For 
you  have  no  devil;  mine  matches  his  and  mates.  I 
am  ftee  to  confess  that  the  whole  thing  is  only  an 
attraction.  There  is  nothing  permanent  about  him,  nor 

195 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE   SNOWS 

about  me.    And  there's  the  beauty,  the  balance  is  pre 
served." 

Frona  lay  back  in  her  chair  and  lazily  regarded  her 
visitor.  Lucile  waited  for  her  to  speak.  It  was  very 
quiet. 

"  Well  ?"  Lucile  at  last  demanded,  in  a  low,  curious 
tone,  at  the  same  time  rising  to  slip  into  her  parka. 

"  Nothing.     I  was  only  waiting." 

"  I  am  done." 

"  Then  let  me  say  that  I  do  not  understand  you," 
Frona  summed  up,  coldly.  "  I  cannot  somehow  just 
catch  your  motive.  There  is  a  flat  ring  to  what  you 
have  said.  However,  of  this  I  am  sure:  for  some 
unaccountable  reason  you  have  been  untrue  to  your 
self  to-day.  Do  not  ask  me,  for,  as  I  said  before, 
I  do  not  know  where  or  how ;  yet  I  am  none  the  less 
convinced.  This  I  do  know,  you  are  not  the  Lucile 
I  met  by  the  wood  trail  across  the  river.  That  was 
the  true  Lucile,  little  though  I  saw  of  her.  The  woman 
who  is  here  to-day  is  a  strange  woman.  I  do  not 
know  her.  Sometimes  it  has  seemed  she  was  Lucile, 
but  rarely.  This  woman  has  lied,  lied  to  me,  and  lied 
to  me  about  herself.  As  to  what  she  said  of  the  man, 
at  the  worst  that  is  merely  an  opinion.  It  may  be  she 
has  lied  about  him  likewise.  The  chance  is  large  that 
she  has.  What  do  you  think  about  it  ?" 

"  That  you  are  a  very  clever  girl,  Frona.  That  you 
speak  sometimes  more  truly  than  you  know,  and  that 
at  others  you  are  blinder  than  you  dream." 

"  There  is  something  I  could  love  in  you,  but  you 
have  hidden  it  away  so  that  I  cannot  find  it." 

Lucile's  lips  trembled  on  the  verge  of  speech.  But 
she  settled  her  parka  about  her  and  turned  to  go. 

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A   DAUGHTER   OF  THE   SNOWS 

Frona  saw  her  to  the  door  herself,  and  How-ha  pon 
dered  over  the  white  who  made  the  law  and  was 
greater  than  the  law. 

When  the  door  had  closed,  Lucile  spat  into  the  street. 
"  Faugh !  St.  Vincent !  I  have  defiled  my  mouth  with 
your  name!"  And  she  spat  again. 

"  Come  in." 

At  the  summons  Matt  McCarthy  pulled  the  latch- 
string,  pushed  the  door  open,  and  closed  it  carefully 
behind  him. 

"  Oh,  it  is  you !"  St.  Vincent  regarded  his  visitor 
with  dark  abstraction,  then,  recollecting  himself,  held 
out  his  hand.  "  Why,  hello,  Matt,  old  man.  My  mind 
was  a  thousand  miles  away  when  you  entered.  Take 
a  stool  and  make  yourself  comfortable.  There's  the 
tobacco  by  your  hand.  Take  a  try  at  it  and  give  us 
your  verdict." 

"  An'  well  may  his  mind  be  a  thousand  miles  away," 
Matt  assured  himself ;  for  in  the  dark  he  had  passed  a 
woman  on  the  trail  who  looked  suspiciously  like  Lucjle. 
But  aloud,  "  Sure,  an'  it's  day-dramin'  ye  mane.  An* 
small  wondher." 

"  How's  that  ?"  the  correspondent  asked,  cheerily. 

"  By  the  same  token  that  I  met  Lucile  down  the  trail 
a  piece,  an'  the  heels  iv  her  moccasins  pointing  to  yer 
shack.  It's  a  bitter  tongue  the  jade  slings  on  occa 
sion."  Matt  chuckled. 

"That's  the  worst  of  it."  St.  Vincent  met  him 
frankly.  "  A  man  looks  sidewise  at  them  for  a  pass 
ing  moment,  and  they  demand  that  the  moment  be 
eternal." 

"  Off  with  the  old  love's  a  stiff  proposition,  eh?" 
197 


A   DAUGHTER   OF  THE   SNOWS 

"  I  should  say  so.  And  you  understand.  It's  easy 
to  see,  Matt,  you've  had  some  experience  in  your  time." 

"  In  me  time  ?  I'll  have  ye  know  I'm  not  too  old  to 
still  enjoy  a  bit  iv  a  fling." 

"  Certainly,  certainly.  One  can  read  it  in  your  eyes. 
The  warm  heart  and  the  roving  eye,  Matt!"  He 
slapped  his  visitor  on  the  shoulder  with  a  hearty  laugh. 

"An'  I've  none  the  best  iv  ye,  Vincent.  'Tis  a 
wicked  lad  ye  are,  with  a  takin'  way  with  the  ladies — 
as  plain  as  the  nose  on  yer  face.  Manny's  the  idle  kiss 
ye've  given,  an'  manny's  the  heart  ye've  broke.  But, 
Vincent,  bye,  did  ye  iver  know  the  rale  thing?" 

"  How  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  The  rale  thing,  the  rale  thing — that  is — well,  have 
ye  been  iver  a  father  ?" 

St.  Vincent  shook  his  head. 

"  And  niver  have  I.  But  have  ye  felt  the  love  iv  a 
father,  thin?" 

"  I  hardly  know.    I  don't  think  so." 

"  Well,  I  have.  An'  it's  the  rale  thing,  I'll  tell  ye. 
If  iver  a  man  suckled  a  child,  I  did,  or  the  next  cloor 
to  it.  A  girl  child  at  that,  an'  she's  woman  grown, 
now,  an'  if  the  thing  is  possible,  I  love  her  more  than 
her  own  blood-father.  Bad  luck,  exciptin'  her,  there 
was  niver  but  one  woman  I  loved,  an'  that  woman  had 
mated  beforetime.  No.  a  soul  did  I  brathe  a  word  to, 
trust  me,  nor  even  herself.  But  she  died,  God's  love  be 
with  her." 

His  chin  went  down  upon  his  chest  and  he  quested 
back  to  a  flaxen-haired  Saxon  woman,  strayed  like  a 
bit  of  sunshine  into  the  log  store  by  the  Dyea  River. 
He  looked  up  suddenly,  and  caught  St.  Vincent's  stare 
bent  blankly  to  the  floor  as  he  mused  on  other  things. 

198 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE    SNOWS 

"  A  truce  to  foolishness,  Vincent." 

The  correspondent  returned  to  himself  with  an  effort 
and  found  the  Irishman's  small  blue  eyes  boring  into 
him. 

"  Are  ye  a  brave  man,  Vincent  ?" 

For  a  second's  space  they  searched  each  other's  souls. 
And  in  that  space  Matt  could  have  sworn  he  saw  the 
faintest  possible  flicker  or  flutter  in  the  man's  eyes. 

He  brought  his  fist  down  on  the  table  with  a  tri 
umphant  crash.  "  By  God,  yer  not !" 

The  correspondent  pulled  the  tobacco  jug  over  to 
him  and  rolled  a  cigarette.  He  rolled  it  carefully,  the 
delicate  rice  paper  crisping  in  his  hand  without  a 
tremor ;  but  all  the  while  a  red  tide  mounting  up  from 
beneath  the  collar  of  his  shirt,  deepening  in  the  hol 
lows  of  the  cheeks  and  thinning .  against  the  cheek 
bones  above,  creeping,  spreading,  till  all  his  face  was 
aflame. 

'  'Tis  good.  An*  likely  it  saves  me  fingers  a  dirty 
job.  Vincent,  man,  the  girl  child  which  is  woman 
grown  slapes  in  Dawson  this  night.  God  help  us,  you 
an'  me,  but  we'll  niver  hit  again  the  pillow  as  clane  an* 
pure  as  she !  Vincent,  a  word  to  the  wise :  ye'Il  niver 
lay  holy  hand  or  otherwise  upon  her." 

The  devil,  which  Lucile  had  proclaimed,  began  to 
quicken, — a  fuming,  fretting,  irrational  devil. 

"  I  do  not  like  ye.  I  kape  me  raysons  to  meself.  It 
is  sufficient.  But  take  this  to  heart,  an'  take  it  well: 
should  ye  be  mad  enough  to  make  her  yer  wife,  iv 
that  damned  day  ye'll  niver  see  the  inding,  nor  lay 
eye  upon  the  bridal  bed.  Why,  man,  I  cud  bate  ye  to 
death  with  me  two  fists  if  need  be.  But  it's  to  be  hoped 
I'll  do  a  nater  job.  Rest  aisy.  I  promise  ye." 

199 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

"You  Irish  pig !" 

So  the  devil  burst  forth,  and  all  unaware,  fqr  Mc 
Carthy  found  himself  eye-high  with  the  muzzle  of  a 
Colt's  revolver. 

"  Is  it  loaded?"  he  asked.  "  I  belave  ye.  But  why 
are  ye  lingerin'?  Lift  the  hammer,  will  ye?" 

The  correspondent's  trigger-finger  moved  and  there 
was  a  warning  click. 

"  Now  pull  it.  Pull  it,  I  say.  As  though  ye  cud, 
with  that  flutter  to  yer  eye." 

St.  Vincent  attempted  to  turn  his  head  aside. 

"  Look  at  me,  man !"  McCarthy  commanded.  "  Kape 
yer  eyes  on  me  when  ye  do  it." 

Unwillingly  the  sideward  movement  was  arrested, 
and  his  eyes  revurne.d  .md  ivet  the  Irishman's. 

"Now!" 

St.  Vincent  ground  his  teeth  and  pulled  the  trigger 
— at  least  he  thought  he  did,  as  men  think  they  do 
things  in  dreams.  He  willed  the  deed,  flashed  the  order 
forth;  but  the  flutter  of  his  soul  stopped  it. 

'  Tis  paralyzed,  is  it,  that  shaky  little  finger  ?" 
Matt  grinned  into  the  face  of  the  tortured  man.  Tt  Now 
turn  it  aside,  so,  an'  drop  it,  gently  ....  gently 
....  gently."  His  voice  crooned  away  in  soothing 
diminuendo. 

When  the  trigger  was  safely  down,  St.  Vincent  let 
the  revolver  fall  from  his  hand,  and  with  a  slight  au 
dible  sigh  sank  nervelessly  upon  a  stool.  He  tried  to 
straighten  himself,  but  instead  dropped  down  upon  the 
table  and  buried  his  face  in  his  palsied  hands.  Matt 
drew  on  his  mittens,  looking  down  upon  him  pityingly 
the  while,  and  went  out,  closing  the  door  softly  behind 
him. 

200 


VINCENT,  A  WORD  TO  THE  WISE  I  YE  LL  NIVER  LAY 
HOLY  HAND  OR  OTHERWISE  UPON  HER  " 


CHAPTER  XX 


WHERE  nature  shows  the  rough  hand,  the  sons  of 
men  are  apt  to  respond  with  kindred  roughness.  The 
amenities  of  life  spring  up  only  in  mellow  lands, 
where  the  sun  is  warm  and  the  earth  fat.  The  damp 
and  soggy  climate  of  Britain  drives  men  to  strong 
drink;  the  rosy  Orient  lures  to  the  dream  splendors 
of  the  lotus.  The  big-bodied,  white-skinned  northern 
dweller,  rude  and  ferocious,  bellows  his  anger  un- 
couthly  and  drives  a  gross  fist  into  the  face  of  his  foe. 
The  supple  south-sojourner,  silken  of  smile  and  lazy  of 
gesture,  waits,  and  does  his  work  from  behind,  when 
no  man  looketh,  gracefully  and  without  offence.  Their 
ends  are  one;  the  difference  lies  in  their  ways,  and 
therein  the  climate,  and  the  cumulative  effect  thereof, 
is  the  determining  factor.  Both  are  sinners,  as  men 
born  of  women  have  ever  been ;  but  the  one  does  his  sin 
openly,  in  the  clear  sight  of  God ;  the  other — as  though 
God  could  not  see — veils  his  iniquity  with  shimmering 
fancies,  hiding  it  like  it  were  some  splendid  mystery. 

Theses-fee  the  ways  of  men,  each  as  the  sun  shines 
upon  him  and  the  wind  blows  against  him,  according 
to  his  kind,  and  the  seed  of  his  father,  and  the  milk 
of  his  mother.  Each  is  the  resultant  of  many  forces 
which  go  to  make  a  pressure  mightier  than  he,  and 
which  moulds  him  in  the  predestined  shape.  But, 
with  sound  legs  under  him,  he  may  run  away,  and  meet 

201 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

with  a  new  pressure.  He  may  continue  running,  each 
new  pressure  prodding  him  as  he  goes,  until  he  dies, 
and  his  final  form  will  be  that  predestined  of  the  many 
pressures.  An  exchange  of  cradle-babes,  and  the 
base-born  slave  may  wear  the  purple  imperially,  and 
the  royal  infant  begs  an  alms  as  wheedlingly  or  cringe 
to  the  lash  as  abjectly  as  his  meanest  subject.  A 
Chesterfield,  with  an  empty  belly,  chancing  upon  good 
fare,  will  gorge  as  faithfully  as  the  swine  in  the  next 
sty.  And  an  Epicurus,  in  the  dirt-igloo  of  the  Eski 
mos,  will  wax  eloquent  over  the  whale  oil  and  walrus 
blubber,  or  die. 

Thus,  in  the  young  Northland,  frosty  and  grim  and 
menacing,  men  stripped  off  the  sloth  of  the  south  and 
gave  battle  greatly.  And  they  stripped  likewise  much 
of  the  veneer  of  civilization — all  of  its  follies,  most  of 
its  foibles,  and  perhaps  a  few  of  its  virtues.  Maybe 
so ;  but  they  reserved  the  great  traditions  and  at  least 
lived  frankly,  laughed  honestly,  and  looked  one  another 
in  the  eyes. 

And  so  it  is  not  well  for  women,  born  south  of  fifty- 
three  and  reared  gently,  to  knock  loosely  about  the 
Northland,  unless  they  be  great  of  heart.  They  may 
be  soft  and  tender  and  sensitive,  possessed  of  eyes 
which  have  not  lost  the  lustre  and  the  wonder,  and  of 
ears  used  only  to  sweet  sounds;  but  if  their  philoso 
phy  is  sane  and  stable,  large  enough  to  understand 
and  to  forgive,  they  will  come  to  no  harm  and  attain 
comprehension.  If  not,  they  will  see  things  arid  hear 
things  which  hurt,  and  they  will  suffer  greatly,  and 
lose  faith  in  man — which  is  the  greatest  evil  that  may 
happen  them.  Such  should  be  sedulously  cherished, 
and  it  were  well  to  depute  this  to  their  men-folk,  the 

202 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

nearer  of  kin  the  better.  In  line,  it  were  good  policy 
to  seek  out  a  cabin  on  the  hill  overlooking  Dawson, 
or — best  of  all — across  the  Yukon  on  the  western 
bank.  Let  them  not  move  abroad  unheralded  and 
unaccompanied;  and  the  hillside  back  of  the  cabin 
may  be  recommended  as  a  fit  field  for  stretching 
muscles  and  breathing  deeply,  a  place  where  their  ears 
may  remain  undefiled  by  the  harsh  words  of  men  who 
strive  to  the  utmost. 

Vance  Corliss  wiped  the  last  tin  dish  and  filed  it 
away  on  the  shelf,  lighted  his  pipe,  and  rolled  over  on 
his  back  on  the  bunk  to  contemplate  the  moss-chinked 
roof  of  his  French  Hill  cabin.  This  French  Hill  cabin 
stood  on  the  last  dip  of  the  hill  into  Eldorado  Creek, 
close  to  the  main-travelled  trail;  and  its  one  window 
blinked  cheerily  of  nights  at  those  who  journeyed  late. 

The  door  was  kicked  open,  and  Del  Bishop  stag 
gered  in  with  a  load  of  fire-wood.  His  breath  had 
so  settled  on  his  face  in  a  white  rime  that  he  could  not 
speak.  Such  a  condition  was  ever  a  hardship  with  the 
man,  so  he  thrust  his  face  forthwith  into  the  quivering 
heat  above  the  stove.  In  a  trice  the  frost  was  started 
and  the  thawed  streamlets  dancing  madly  on  the  white- 
hot  surface  beneath.  Then  the  ice  began  to  fall  from 
his  beard  in  chunks,  rattling  on  the  lid-tops  and  sim 
mering  spitefully  till  spurted  upward  in  clouds  of 
steam. 

"  And  so  you  witness  an  actual  phenomenon,  illus 
trative  of  the  three  forms  of  matter,"  Vance  laughed, 
mimicking  the  monotonous  tones  of  the  demonstrator ; 
"  solid,  liquid,  and  vapor.  In  another  moment  you  will 
have  the  gas." 

203 


A    DAUGHTER   OF   THE    SNOWS 

"  Th—th— that's  all  very  well,"  Bishop  spluttered, 
wrestling  with  an  obstructing  piece  of  ice  until  it  was 
wrenched  from  his  upper  lip  and  slammed  stoveward 
with  a  bang. 

"  How  cold  do  you  make  it,  Del?    Fifty ?" 

"Fifty?"  the  pocket-miner  demanded  with  unutter 
able  scorn,  wiping  his  face.  "  Quicksilver's  been  solid 
for  hours,  and  it's  been  gittin'  colder  an'  colder  ever 
since.  Fifty?  I'll  bet  my  new  mittens  against  your 
old  moccasins  that  it  ain't  a  notch  below  seventy." 

"Think  so?" 

"D'ye  want  to  bet?" 

Vance  nodded  laughingly. 

"  Centigrade  or  Fahrenheit  ?"  Bishop  asked,  sud 
denly  suspicious. 

"  Oh,  well,  if  you  want  my  old  moccasins  so  badly," 
Vance  rejoined,  feigning  to  be  hurt  by  the  other's  lack 
of  faith,  "  why,  you  can  have  them  without  betting." 

Del  snorted  and  flung  himself  down  on  the  opposite 
bunk.  "  Think  yer  funny,  don't  you  ?"  No  answer 
forthcoming,  he  deemed  the  retort  conclusive,  rolled 
over,  and  fell  to  studying  the  moss  chinks. 

Fifteen  minutes  of  this  diversion  sufficed.  "  Play 
you  a  rubber  of  crib  before  bed,"  he  challenged  across 
to  the  other  bunk. 

"  I'll  go  you."  Corliss  got  up,  stretched,  and  moved 
the  kerosene  lamp  from  the  shelf  to  the  table.  "  Think 
it  will  hold  out?"  he  asked,  surveying  the  oil-level 
through  the  cheap  glass. 

Bishop  threw  down  the  crib-board  and  cards,  and 
measured  the  contents  of  the  lamp  with  his  eye.  "  For 
got  to  fill  it,  didn't  I  ?  Too  late  now.  Do  it  to-morrow. 
It'll  last  the  rubber  out,  sure." 

204 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

Corliss  took  up  the  cards,  but  paused  in  the  shuffling. 
"  We've  a  big  trip  before  us,  Del,  about  a  month  from 
now,  the  middle  of  March  as  near  as  I  can  plan  it, — 
up  the  Stuart  River  to  McQuestion;  up  McQuestion 
and  back  again  down  the  Mayo ;  then  across  country 
to  Mazy  May,  winding  up  at  Henderson  Creek " 

"On  the  Indian  River?" 

"  No,"  Corliss  replied,  as  he  dealt  the  hands;  "  just 
below  where  the  Stuart  taps  the  Yukon.  And  then 
back  to  Dawson  before  the  ice  breaks." 

The  pocket-miner's  eyes  sparkled.  "  Keep  us  hus- 
tlin';  but,  say,  it's  a  trip,  isn't  it!  Hunch?" 

"  I've  received  word  from  the  Parker  outfit  on  the 
Mayo,  and  McPherson  isn't  asleep  on  Henderson — 
you  don't  know  him.  They're  keeping  quiet,  and  of 
course  one  can't  tell,  but  .  .  .  ." 

Bishop  nodded  his  head  sagely,  while  Corliss  turned 
the  trump  he  had  cut.  A  sure  vision  of  a  "  twenty- 
four"  hand  was  dazzling  him,  when  there  was  a  sound 
of  voices  without  and  the  door  shook  to  a  heavy  knock. 

"  Come  in !"  he  bawled.  "  An'  don't  make  such  a 
row  about  it !  Look  at  that" — to  Corliss,  at  the  same 
time  facing  his  hand — "  fifteen-eight,  fifteen-sixteen, 
and  eight  are  twenty-four.  Just  my  luck !" 

Corliss  started  swiftly  to  his  feet.  Bishop  jerked  his 
head  about.  Two  women  and  a  man  had  staggered 
clumsily  in  through  the  door,  and  were  standing  just 
inside,  momentarily  blinded  by  the  light. 

"  By  all  the  Prophets  !  Cornell !"  The  pocket-miner 
wrung  the  man's  hand  and  led  him  forward.  "  You 
recollect  Cornell,  Corliss?  Jake  Cornell,  Thirty-Seven 
and  a  Half  Eldorado." 

"  How  could  I  forget  ?"  the  engineer  acknowledged 
205 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE    SNOWS 

warmly,  shaking  his  hand.  "  That  was  a  miserable 
night  you  put  us  up  last  fall,  about  as  miserable  as  the 
moose-steak  was  good  that  you  gave  us  for  breakfast." 

Jake  Cornell,  hirsute  and  cadaverous  of  aspect, 
nodded  his  head  with  emphasis  and  deposited  a  cor 
pulent  demijohn  on  the  table.  Again  he  nodded  his 
head,  and  glared  wildly  about  him.  The  stove  caught 
his  eye  and  he  strode  over  to  it,  lifted  a  lid,  and  spat 
out  a  mouthful  of  amber-colored  juice.  Another  stride 
and  he  was  back. 

:( 'Course  I  recollect  the  night,"  he  rumbled,  the 
ice  clattering  from  his  hairy  jaws.  "  And  I'm  danged 
glad  to  see  you,  that's  a  fact."  He  seemed  suddenly  to 
remember  himself,  and  added  a  little  sheepishly,  "  The 
fact  is,  we're  all  danged  glad  to  see  you,  ain't  we, 
girls  ?"  He  twisted  his  head  about  and  nodded  his  com 
panions  up.  "  Blanche,  my  dear,  Mr.  Corliss — hem — 
it  gives  me  ....  hem  ....  it  gives  me  pleasure  to 
make  you  acquainted.  Cariboo  Blanche,  sir,  Cariboo 
Blanche." 

"  Pleased  to  meet  you."  Cariboo  Blanche  put  out  a 
frank  hand  and  looked  him  over  keenly.  She  was  a 
fair- featured,  blondish  woman,  originally  not  unpleas- 
ing  of  appearance,  but  now  with  lines  all  deepened  and 
hardened  as  on  the  faces  of  men  who  have  endured 
much  weather-beat. 

Congratulating  himself  upon  his  social  proficiency, 
Jake  Cornell  cleared  his  throat  and  marshalled  the 
second  woman  to  the  front.  "  Mr.  Corliss,  the  Virgin ; 
I  make  you  both  acquainted.  Hem!"  in  response  to 
the  query  in  Vance's  eyes — "  Yes,  the  Virgin.  That's 
all,  just  the  Virgin." 

She  smiled  and  bowed,  but  did  not  shake  hands. 
206 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

"  A  toff"  was  her  secret  comment  upon  the  engineer ; 
and  from  her  limited  experience  she  had  been  led  to 
understand  that  it  was  not  good  form  among  "  toffs" 
to  shake  hands. 

Corliss  fumbled  his  hand,  then  bowed,  and  looked  at 
her  curiously.  She  was  a  pretty,  low-browed  creature ; 
darkly  pretty,  with  a  well-favored  body,  and  for  all 
that  the  type  was  mean,  he  could  not  escape  the  charm 
of  her  over-brimming  vitality.  She  seemed  bursting 
with  it,  and  every  quick,  spontaneous  movement  ap 
peared  to  spring  from  very  excess  of  red  blood  and 
superabundant  energy. 

"  Pretty  healthy  proposition,  ain't  she  ?"  Jake  Cornell 
demanded,  following  his  host's  gaze  with  approval. 

"  None  o'  your  gammon,  Jake,"  the  Virgin  snapped 
back,  with  lip  curled  contemptuously  for  Vance's  espe 
cial  benefit.  "  I  fancy  it'd  be  more  in  keeping  if  you'd 
look  to  pore  Blanche,  there." 

"  Fact  is,  we're  plum  ding  dong  played  out,"  Jake 
said.  "  An'  Blanche  went  through  the  ice  just  down 
the  trail,  and  her  feet's  like  to  freezin'." 

Blanche  smiled  as  Corliss  piloted  her  to  a  stool  by 
the  fire,  and  her  stern  mouth  gave  no  indication  of  the 
pain  she  was  suffering.  He  turned  away  when  the 
Virgin  addressed  herself  to  removing  the  wet  foot 
gear,  while  Bishop  went  rummaging  for  socks  and 
moccasins. 

"  Didn't  go  in  more'n  to  the  ankles,"  Cornell  ex 
plained  confidentially ;  "  but  that's  plenty  a  night  like 
this." 

Corliss  agreed  with  a  nod  of  the  head. 

"  Spotted  your  light,  and — hem — and  so  we  come. 
Don't  mind,  do  you?" 

207 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE    SNOWS 

"  Why,  certainly  not " 

"Nointrudin'?" 

Corliss  reassured  him  by  laying  hand  on  his  shoulder 
and  cordially  pressing  him  to  a  seat.  Blanche  sighed 
luxuriously.  Her  wet  stockings  were  stretched  up  and 
already  steaming,  and  her  feet  basking  in  the  capacious 
warmth  of  Bishop's  Siwash  socks.  Vance  shoved  the 
tobacco  canister  across,  but  Cornell  pulled- out  a  hand 
ful  of  cigars  and  passed  them  around. 

"  Uncommon  bad  piece  of  trail  just  this  side  of  the 
turn,"  he  remarked  stentoriously,  at  the  same  time 
flinging  an  eloquent  glance  at  the  demijohn.  "  Ice 
rotten  from  the  springs  and  no  sign  till  you're  into 
it."  Turning  to  the  woman  by  the  stove,  "  How're  you 
feeling,  Blanche?" 

"  Tony,"  she  responded,  stretching  her  body  lazily 
and  redisposing  her  feet;  "though  my  legs  ain't  as 
limber  as  when  we  pulled  out." 

Looking  to  his  host  for  consent,  Cornell  tilted  the 
demijohn  over  his  arm  and  partly  filled  the  four  tin 
mugs  and  an  empty  jelly  glass. 

"  Wot's  the  matter  with  a  toddy?"  the  Virgin  broke 
in;  "or  a  punch?" 

"Got  any  lime  juice?"  she  demanded  of  Corliss. 
"You  save?  Jolly!"  She  directed  her  dark  eyes 
towards  Del.  "  'Ere,  you,  cookie !  Trot  out  your  mix 
ing-pan  and  sling  the  kettle  for  'ot  water.  Come  on ! 
All  hands !  Jake's  treat,  and  I'll  show  you  yow !  Any 
sugar,  Mr.  Corliss?  And  nutmeg?  Cinnamon,  then? 
O.K.  It'll  do.  Lively  now,  cookie !" 

"Ain't  she  a  peach?"  Cornell  confided  to  Vance, 
watching  her  with  mellow  eyes  as  she  stirred  the 
steaming  brew. 

208 


A   DAUGHTER   OF  THE   SNOWS 

But  the  Virgin  directed  her  attentions  to  the  engi 
neer.  "  Don't  mind  'im,  sir/'  she  advised.  "  'E's 
more'n  arf-gorn  a'ready,  a-'itting  the  jug  every  blessed 
stop." 

"  Now,  my  dear "  Jake  protested. 

"  Don't  you  my-dear  me,"  she  sniffed.  "  I  don't  like 
you." 

"Why?" 

"  Cos  .  .  .  . "  She  ladled  the  punch  carefully  into 
the  mugs  and  meditated.  "  Cos  you  chew  tobacco. 
Cos  you're  whiskery.  Wot  I  take  to  is  smooth-faced 
young  chaps." 

"  Don't  take  any  stock  in  her  nonsense,"  the  Fraction 
King  warned.  "  She  just  does  it  a-purpose  to  get  me 
mad." 

"  Now  then !"  she  commanded,  sharply.  "  Step  up 
to  your  licker !  'Ere's  'ow !" 

"  What'll  it  be?"  cried  Blanche  from  the  stove. 

The  elevated  mugs  wavered  and  halted. 

"The  Queen,  Gawd  bless  'er!"  the  Virgin  toasted 
promptly. 

"  And  Bill !"  Del  Bishop  interrupted. 

Again  the  rnugs  wavered. 

"Bill  'oo?"  the  Virgin  asked,  suspiciously. 

"  McKinley." 

She  favored  him  with  a  smile.  "  Thank  you,  cookie, 
you're  a  trump.  Now!  'Ere's  a  go,  gents!  Take  it 
standing.  The  Queen,  Gawd  bless  'er,  and  Bill  Mc 
Kinley!" 

"  Bottoms  up !"  thundered  Jake  Cornell,  and  the 
mugs  smote  the  table  with  clanging  rims. 

Vance  Corliss  discovered  himself  amused  and  inter 
ested.  According  to  Frona,  he  mused  ironically, — this 
14  209 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE    SNOWS 

was  learning  life,  was  adding  to  his  sum  of  human 
generalizations.  The  phrase  was  hers,  and  he  rolled  it 
over  a  couple  of  times.  Then,  again,  her  engagement 
with  St.  Vincent  crept  into  his  thought,  and  he 
charmed  the  Virgin  by  asking  her  to  sing.  But  she 
was  coy,  and  only  after  Bishop  had  rendered  the  sev 
eral  score  stanzas  of  "  Flying  Cloud"  did  she  comply. 
Her  voice,  in  a  weakly  way,  probably  registered  an 
octave  and  a  half;  below  that  point  it  underwent 
strange  metamorphoses,  while  on  the  upper  levels 
it  was  devious  and  rickety.  Nevertheless  she  sang 
"  Take  Back  Your  Gold"  with  touching  effect,  which 
brought  a  fiery  moisture  into  the  eyes  of  the  Fraction 
King,  who  listened  greedily,  for  the  time  being  ex 
periencing  unwonted  ethical  yearnings. 

The  applause  was  generous,  followed  immediately 
by  Bishop,  who  toasted  the  singer  as  the  "  Enchantress 
,  of  Bow  Bells,"  to  the  reverberating  "  bottoms  up !"  of 
Jake  Cornell. 

Two  hours  later,  Frona  Welse  rapped.  It  was  a 
sharp,  insistent  rap,  penetrating  the  din  within  and 
bringing  Corliss  to  the  door. 

She  gave  a  glad  little  cry  when  she  saw  who  it  was. 
"  Oh !  it  is  you,  Vance !  I  didn't  know  you  lived 
here." 

He  shook  hands  and  blocked  the  doorway  with  his 
body.    Behind  him  the  Virgin  was  laughing  and 
Cornell  roaring: 

"  Oh,  cable  this  message  along  the  track : 
The  Prod's  out  West,  but  he's  coming  back; 
Put  plenty  of  veal  for  one  on  the  rack, 
Trollalala,  la  la  la,  la  la!" 

2IO 


A    DAUGHTER    OF   THE   SNOWS 

"  What  is  it  ?"  Vance  questioned.    "  Anything  up  ?" 
"  I  think  you  might  ask  me  in."    There  was  a  fiint 
of  reproach  in  Frona's  voice,  and  of  haste.    "  I  blun 
dered  through  the  ice,  and  my  feet  are  freezing." 

"  O  Gawd !"  in  the  exuberant  tones  of  the  Virgin, 
came  whirling  over  Vance's  shoulder,  and  the  voices 
of  Blanche  and  Bishop  joining  in  a  laugh  against  Cor 
nell,  and  that  worthy's  vociferous  protestations.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  all  the  blood  of  his  body  had  rushed 
into  his  face.  "  But  you  can't  come  in,  Frona.  Don't 
you  hear  them?" 

"  But  I  must,"  she  insisted.  "  My  feet  are  freezing." 
With  a  gesture  of  resignation  he  stepped  aside  and 
closed  the  door  after  her.  Coming  suddenly  in  from 
the  darkness,  she  hesitated  a  moment,  but  in  that  mo 
ment  recovered  her  sight  and  took  in  the  scene.  The 
air  was  thick  with  tobacco  smoke,  and  the  odor  of  it, 
in  the  close  room,  was  sickening  to  one  fresh  from 
the  pure  outside.  On  the  table  a  column  of  steam 
was  ascending  from  the  big  mixing-pan.  The  Virgin, 
fleeing  before  Cornell,  was  defending  herself  with  a 
long  mustard-spoon.  Evading  him  and  watching  her 
chance,  she  continually  daubed  his  nose  and  cheeks 
with  the  yellow  smear.  Blanche  had  twisted  about 
from  the  stove  to  see  the  fun,  and  Del  Bishop,  with  a 
mug  at  rest  half-way  to  his  lips,  was  applauding  the 
successive  strokes.  The  faces  of  all  were  flushed. 

Vance  leaned  nervelessly  against  the  door.  The 
whole  situation  seemed  so  unthinkably  impossible.  An 
insane  desire  to  laugh  came  over  him,  which  resolved 
itself  into  a  coughing  fit.  But  Frona,  realizing  her 
own  pressing  need  by  the  growing  absence  of  sensa 
tion  in  her  feet,  stepped  forward. 

211 


A    DAUGHTER    OF   THE    SNOWS 

"Hello,  Del!"   she  called. 

The  mirth  froze  on  his  face  at  the  familiar  sound, 
and  he  slowly  and  unwilling  turned  his  head  to  meet 
her.  She  had  slipped  the  hood  of  her  parka  back,  and 
her  face,  outlined  against  the  dark  fur,  rosy  with  the 
cold  and  bright,  was  like  a  shaft  of  the  sun  shot  into 
the  murk  of  a  boozing-ken.  They  all  knew  her,  for 
who  did  not  know  Jacob  Welse's  daughter?  The  Vir 
gin  dropped  the  mustard-spoon  with  a  startled  shriek, 
while  Cornell,  passing  a  dazed  hand  across  his  yellow 
markings  and  consummating  the  general  smear,  col 
lapsed  on  the  nearest  stool.  Cariboo  Blanche  alone 
retained  her  self-possession,  and  laughed  softly. 

JBishop  managed  to  articulate  "  Hello !"  but  was 
unable  to  stave  off  the  silence  which  settled  down. 

Frona  waited  a  second,  and  then  said,  "  Good-even 
ing,  all." 

"  This  way."  Vance  had  recovered  himself,  and 
seated  her  by  the  stove  opposite  Blanche.  "  Better  get 
your  things  off  quickly,  and  be  careful  of  the  heat. 
I'll  see  what  I  can  find  for  you." 

"  Some  cold  water,  please,"  she  asked.  "  It  will  take 
the  frost  out.  Del  will  get  it." 

"  I  hope  it  is  not  serious  ?" 

"  No."  She  shook  her  head  and  smiled  up  to  him, 
at  the  same  time  working  away  at  her  ice-coated  moc 
casins.  "  There  hasn't  been  time  for  more  than  sur 
face-freezing.  At  the  worst  the  skin  will  peel  off." 

An  unearthly  silence  brooded  in  the  cabin,  broken 
only  by  Bishop  filling  a  basin  from  the  water-bucket, 
and  by  Corliss  seeking  out  his  smallest  and  daintiest 
house-moccasins  and  his  warmest  socks. 

Frona,  rubbing  her  feet  vigorously,  paused  and 
212 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE    SNOWS 

looked  up.  "  Don't  let  me  chill  the  festivities  just 
because  I'm  cold,"  she  laughed.  "  Please  go  on." 

Jake  Cornell  straightened  up  and  cleared  his  throat 
inanely,  and  the  Virgin  looked  over-dignified;  but 
Blanche  came  over  and  took  the  towel  out  of  Frona's 
hands. 

"  I  wet  my  feet  in  the  same  place,"  she  said,  kneel 
ing  down  and  bringing  a  glow  to  the  frosted  feet. 

"  I  suppose  you  can  manage  some  sort  of  a  fit  with 
them.  Here!"  Vance  tossed  over  the  house-mocca 
sins  and  woollen  wrappings,  which  the  two  women, 
with  low  laughs  and  confidential  undertones,  proceeded 
to  utilize. 

"  But  what  in  the  world  were  you  doing  on  trail, 
alone,  at  this  time  of  night?"  Vance  asked.  In  his 
heart  he  was  marvelling  at  the  coolness  and  pluck  with 
which  she  was  carrying  off  the  situation. 

"  I  know  beforehand  that  you  will  censure  me,"  she 
replied,  helping  Blanche  arrange  the  wet  gear  over  the 
fire.  "  I  was  at  Mrs.  Stanton's ;  but  first,  you  must 
know.  Miss  Mortimer  and  I  are  staying  at  the  Pently's 
for  a  week.  Now,  to  start  fresh  again.  I  intended  to 
leave  Mrs.  Stanton's  before  dark;  but  her  baby  got 
into  the  kerosene,  her  husband  had  gone  down  to  Daw- 
son,  and — well,  we  weren't  sure  of  the  baby  up  to  half 
an  hour  ago.  She  wouldn't  hear  of  me  -returning 
alone;  but  there  was  nothing  to  fear;  only  I  had  not 
expected  soft  ice  in  such  a  snap." 

"  How'd  you  fix  the  kid  ?"  Del  asked,  intent  on  keep 
ing  the  talk  going  now  that  it  had  started. 

"  Chewing  tobacco."  And  when  the  laughter  had 
subsided,  she  went  on :  "  There  wasn't  any  mustard, 
and  it  was  the  best  I  could  think  of.  Besides,  Matt 

213 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

McCarthy  saved  my  life  with  it  once,  down  at  Dyea, 
when  I  had  the  croup.  But  you  were  singing  when 
I  came  in,"  she  suggested.  "  Do  go  on." 

Jake  Cornell  hawed  prodigiously.  "  And  I  got 
done." 

'  Then  you,  Del.  Sing  '  Flying  Cloud'  as  you  used 
to  coming  down  the  river." 

"  Oh,  'e  'as !"   said  the  Virgin. 

"  Then  you  sing.    I  am  sure  you  do." 

She  smiled  into  the  Virgin's  eyes,  and  that  lady 
delivered  herself  of  a  coster  ballad  with  more  art  than 
she  was  aware.  The  chill  of  Frona's  advent  was 
quickly  dissipated,  and  song  and  toast  and  merriment 
went  round  again.  Nor  was  Frona  above  touching 
lips  to  the  jelly  glass  in  fellowship;  and  she  con 
tributed  her  quota  by  singing  "  Annie  Laurie"  and 
"  Ben  Bolt."  Also,  but  privily,  she  watched  the 
drink  saturating  the  besotted  souls  of  Cornell  and 
the  Virgin.  It  was  an  experience,  and  she  was  glad 
of  it,  though  sorry  in  a  way  for  Corliss,  who  played 
the  host  lamely. 

But  he  had  little  need  of  pity.  "  Any  other 
woman "  he  said  to  himself  a  score  of  times,  look 
ing  at  Frona  and  trying  to  picture  numerous  women 
he  had  known  by  his  mother's  teapot,  knocking  at  the 
door  and  coming  in  as  Frona  had  done.  Then,  again, 
it  was  only  yesterday  that  it  would  have  hurt  him, 
Blanche's  rubbing  her  feet;  but  now  he  gloried  in 
Frona's  permitting  it,  and  his  heart  went  out  in  a  more 
kindly  way  to  Blanche.  Perhaps  it  was  the  elevation 
of  the  liquor,  but  he  seemed  to  discover  new  virtues 
in  her  rugged  face. 

Frona  had  put  on  her  dried  moccasins  and  risen  to 
214 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

her  feet,  and  was  listening  patiently  to  Jake  Cornell, 
who  hiccoughed  a  last  incoherent  toast. 

"  To  the — hie — man,"  he  rumbled,  cavernously,  "  the 
man — hie — that  made — that  made " 

"  The  blessed  country,"  volunteered  the  Virgin. 

"  True,  my  dear — hie.  To  the  man  that  made  the 
blessed  country.  To — hie — to  Jacob  Welse!" 

•"  And  a  rider !"  Blanche  cried.  "  To  Jacob  Welse's 
daughter !" 

"  Ay !    Standing !    And  bottoms  up !" 

"Oh!  she's  a  jolly  good  fellow!"  Del  led  off,  the 
drink  ruddying  his  cheek. 

"  I'd  like  to  shake  hands  with  you,  just  once," 
Blanche  said  in  a  low  voice,  while  the  rest  were  cho 
rusing. 

Frona  slipped  her  mitten,  which  she  had  already  put 
on,  and  the  pressure  was  firm  between  them. 

"  No,"  she  said  to  Corliss,  who  had  put  on  his  cap 
and  was  tying  the  ear-flaps ;  "  Blanche  tells  me  the 
Pently's  are  only  half  a  mile  from  here.  The  trail  is 
straight.  I'll  not  hear  of  any  one  accompanying  me. 

"  No !"  This  time  she  spoke  so  authoritatively  that 
he  tossed  his  cap  into  the  bunk.  "  Good-night,  all !" 
she  called,  sweeping  the  roisterers  with  a  smile. 

But  Corliss  saw  her  to  the  door  and  stepped  outside. 
She  glanced  up  to  him.  Her  hood  was  pulled  only 
partly  up,  and  her  face  shone  alluringly  under  the 
starlight. 

"  I— Frona  ....   I  wish " 

"  Don't  be  alarmed,"  she  whispered.  "  I'll  not  tell 
on  you,  Vance." 

He  saw  the  mocking  glint  in  her  eyes,  but  tried  to 

go  on.    "  I  wish  to  explain  just  how " 

215 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE   SNOWS 

"  No  need.  I  understand.  But  at  the  same  time 
I  must  confess  I  do  not  particularly  admire  your 
taste " 


"  Frona !"  The  evident  pain  in  his  voice  reached 
her. 

"Oh,  you  big  foolish!"  she  laughed.  "Don't  I 
know?  Didn't  Blanche  tell  me  she  wet  her  feet?" 

Corliss  bowed  his  head.  "  Truly,  Frona,  you  are 
the  most  consistent  woman  I  ever  met.  Furthermore," 
with  a  straightening  of  his  form  and  a  dominant  asser 
tion  in  his  voice,  "  this  is  not  the  last." 

She  tried  to  stop  him,  but  he  continued.  "  I  feel,  I 
know  that  things  will  turn  out  differently.  To  fling 
your  own  words  back  at  you,  all  the  factors  have  not 
been  taken  into  consideration.  As  for  St.  Vincent  .  . 
.  .I'll  have  you  yet.  For  that  matter,  now  could  not 
be  too  soon !" 

He  flashed  out  hungry  arms  to  her,  but  she  read 
quicker  than  he  moved,  and,  laughing,  eluded  him 
and  ran  lightly  down  the  trail. 

"  Come  back,  Frona !  Come  back !"  he  called.  "  I 
am  sorry." 

"  No,  you're  not,"  came  the  answer.  "  And  I'd  be 
sorry  if  you  were.  Good-night." 

He  watched  her  merge  into  the  shadows,  then  en 
tered  the  cabin.  He  had  utterly  forgotten  the  scene 
within,  and  at  the  first  glance  it  startled  him.  Cariboo 
Blanche  was  crying  softly  to  herself.  Her  eyes  were 
luminous  and  moist,  and,  as  he  looked,  a  lone  tear  stole 
down  her  cheek.  Bishop's  face  had  gone  serious.  The 
Virgin  had  sprawled  head  and  shoulders  on  the  table, 
amid  overturned  mugs  and  dripping  lees,  and  Cornell 
was  tittubating  over  her,  hiccoughing,  and  repeating 

216 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE    SNOWS 

vacuously,  "  You're  all  right,  my  dear.  You're  all 
right." 

But  the  Virgin  was  inconsolable.  "  O  Gawd !  Wen 
I  think  on  wot  is,  an'  was  ....  an'  no  fault  of 
mine.  No  fault  of  mine,  I  tell  you !"  she  shrieked  with 
quick  fierceness.  "  'Ow  was  I  born,  I  ask  ?  Wot  was 
my  old  man?  A  drunk,  a  chronic.  An'  my  old 
woman?  Talk  of  Whitechapel!  'Oo  guv  a  cent  for 
me,  or  'ow  I  was  dragged  up  ?  'Oo  cared  a  rap,  I  say  ? 
'Oo  cared  a  rap?" 

A  sudden  revulsion  came  over  Corliss.  "  Hold  your 
tongue !"  he  ordered. 

The  Virgin  raised  her  head,  her  loosened  hair 
streaming  about  her  like  a  Fury's.  "  Wot  is  sEe  ?" 
she  sneered.  "  Sweet'eart  ?" 

Corliss  whirled  upon  her  savagely,  face  white  and 
voice  shaking  with  passion. 

The  Virgin  cowered  down  and  instinctively  threw 
up  her  hands  to  protect  her  face.  "  Don't  'it  me,  sir !" 
she  whined.  "  Don't  'it  me !" 

He  was  frightened  at  himself,  and  waited  till  he 
could  gather  control.  "  Now,"  he  said,  calmly,  "  get 
into  your  things  and  go.  All  of  you.  Clear  out. 
Vamose." 

"  You're  no  man,  you  ain't,"  the  Virgin  snarled, 
discovering  that  physical  assault  was  not  imminent. 

But  Corliss  herded  her  particularly  to  the  door,  and 
gave  no  heed. 

"  A-turning  ladies  out !"  she  sniffed,  with  a  stumble 
over  the  threshold. 

"  No  offence,"  Jake  Cornell  muttered,  pacifically ; 
"  no  offence." 

"  Good-night.      Sorry,"    Corliss    said    to    Blanche, 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

with  the  shadow  of  a  forgiving  smile,  as  she  passed 
out. 

"You're  a  toff!  That's  wot  you  are,  a  bloomir/ 
toff !"  the  Virgin  howled  back  as  he  shut  the  door. 

He  looked  blankly  at  Del  Bishop  and  surveyed  the 
sodden  confusion  on  the  table.  Then  he  walked  over 
and  threw  himself  down  on  his  bunk.  Bishop  leaned 
an  elbow  on  the  table  and  pulled  at  his  wheezy  pipe. 
The  lamp  smoked,  flickered,  and  went  out ;  but  still  he 
remained,  filling  his  pipe  again  and  again  and  striking 
endless  matches. 

"  Del !    Are  you  awake  ?"   Corliss  called  at  last. 

Del  grunted. 

"  I  was  a  cur  to  turn  them  out  into  the  snow.  I  am 
ashamed." 

"  Sure,"  was  the  affirmation. 

A  long  silence  followed.  Del  knocked  the  ashes  out 
and  raised  up. 

"'Sleep?"  he  called. 

There  was  no  reply,  and  he  walked  to  the  bunk 
softly  and  pulled  the  blankets  over  the  engineer. 


CHAPTER  XXI 


"  YES  ;  what  does  it  all  mean  ?"  Corliss  stretched 
lazily,  and  cocked  up  his  feet  on  the  table.  He  was 
not  especially  interested,  but  Colonel  Trethaway  per 
sisted  in  talking  seriously. 

"That's  it!  The  very  thing  — the  old  and  ever 
young  demand  which  man  slaps  into  the  face  of  the 
universe."  The  colonel  searched  among  the  scraps 
in  his  note-book.  "  See,"  holding  up  a  soiled 
slip  of  typed  paper,  "  I  copied  this  out  years  ago. 
Listen.  '  What  a  monstrous  spectre  is  this  man,  this 
disease  of  the  agglutinated  dust,  lifting  alternate  feet 
or  lying  drugged  with  slumber ;  killing,  feeding,  grow 
ing,  bringing  forth  small  copies  of  himself;  grown  up 
with  hair  like  grass,  fitted  with  eyes  that  glitter  in  his 
face;  a  thing  to  set  children  screaming.  Poor  soul, 
here  for  so  little,  cast  among  so  many  hardships,  rilled 
with  desires  so  incommensurate  and  so  inconsistent; 
savagely  surrounded,  savagely  descended,  irremediably 
condemned  to  prey  upon  his  fellow-lives.  Infinitely 
childish,  often  admirably  valiant,  often  touchingly 
kind;  sitting  down  to  debate  of  right  or  wrong  and 
the  attributes  of  the  deity;  rising  up  to  battle  for  an 
egg  or  die  for  an  idea  P 

"  And  all  to  what  end  ?"  he  demanded,  hotly,  throw 
ing  down  the  paper,  "  this  disease  of  the  agglutinated 
dust?" 

219 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

Corliss  yawned  in  reply.  He  had  been  on  trail  all 
day  and  was  yearning  for  between-blankets. 

"Here  am  I,  Colonel  Trethaway,  modestly  along  in 
years,  fairly  well  preserved,  a  place  in  the  community, 
a  comfortable  bank  account,  no  need  to  ever  exert 
myself  again,'  yet  enduring  life  bleakly  and  working 
ridiculously  with  a  zest  worthy  of  a  man  half  my 
years.  And  to  what  end?  I  can  only  eat  so  much, 
smoke  so  much,  sleep  so  much,  and  this  tail-dump  of 
earth  men  call  Alaska  is  the  worst  of  all  possible  places 
in  the  matter  of  grub,  tobacco,  and  blankets." 

"  But  it  is  the  living  strenuously  which  holds  you," 
Corliss  interjected. 

"  Frona's  philosophy,"  the  colonel  sneered. 

"  And  my  philosophy,  and  yours." 

"  And  of  the  agglutinated  dust " 

"  Which  is  quickened  with  a  passion  you  do  not 
take  into  account, — the  passion  of  duty,  of  race,  of 
God!" 

"  And  the  compensation  ?"  Trethaway  demanded. 

"  Each  breath  you  draw.  The  Mayfly  lives  an 
hour." 

"  I  don't  see  it." 

"  Blood  and  sweat !  Blood  and  sweat !  You  cried 
that  after  the  rough  and  tumble  in  the  Opera  House, 
and  every  word  of  it  was  receipt  in  full." 

"  Frona's  philosophy." 

"  And  yours  and  mine." 

The  colonel  threw  up  his  shoulders,  and  after  a 
pause  confessed.  "  You  see,  try  as  I  will,  I  can't  make 
a  pessimist  out  of  myself.  We  are  all  compensated, 
and  I  more  fully  than  most  men.  What  end  ?  I  asked, 
and  the  answer  forthcame:  Since  the  ultimate  end  is 

220 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE    SNOWS 

beyond  us,  then  the  immediate.  More  compensation, 
here  and  now!" 

"  Quite  hedonistic." 

"  And  rational.  I  shall  look  to  it  at  once.  I  can  buy 
grub  and  blankets  for  a  score ;  I  can  eat  and  sleep  for 
only  one ;  ergo,  why  not  for  two  ?" 

Corliss  took  his  feet  down  and  sat  up.  "  In  other 
words?" 

"  I  shall  get  married,  and — give  the  community  a 
shock.  Communities  like  shocks.  That's  one  of  their 
compensations  for  being  agglutinative." 

"  I  can't  think  of  but  one  woman,"  Corliss  essayed 
tentatively,  putting  out  his  hand. 

Trethaway  shook  it  slowly.    "  It  is  she." 

Corliss  let  go,  and  misgiving  shot  into  his  face. 
"But  St.  Vincent?" 

"  Is  your  problem,  not  mine." 

"ThenLucile ?" 

"  Certainly  not.  She  played  a  quixotic  little  game 
of  her  own  and  botched  it  beautifully." 

"  I — I  do  not  understand."  Corliss  brushed  his 
brows  in  a  dazed  sort  of  way. 

Trethaway  parted  his  lips  in  a  superior  smile.  "  It 
is  not  necessary  that  you  should.  The  question  is, 
Will  you  stand  up  writh  me?" 

"  Surely.  But  what  a  confoundedly  long  way 
around  you  took.  It  is  not  your  usual  method." 

"  Nor  was  it  with  her,"  the  colonel  declared,  twisting 
his  moustache  proudly. 

A  captain  of  the  North-West  Mounted  Police,  by 
virtue  of  his  magisterial  office,  may  perform  marriages 
in  time  of  stress  as  well  as  execute  exemplary  justice. 

221 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE   SNOWS 

So  Captain  Alexander  received  a  call  from  Colonel 
Trethaway,  and  after  he  left  jotted  down  an  engage 
ment  for  the  next  morning.  Then  the  impending 
groom  went  to  see  Frona.  Lucile  did  not  make  the 
request,  he  hastened  to  explain,  but — well,  the  fact  was 
she  did  not  know  any  women,  and,  furthermore,  he 
(the  colonel)  knew  whom  Lucile  would  like  to  ask, 
did  she  dare.  So  he  did  it  upon  his  own  responsibility. 
And  coming  as  a  surprise,  he  knew  it  would  be  a  great 
joy  to  her. 

Frona  was  taken  aback  by  the  suddenness  of  it. 
Only  the  other  day,  it  was,  that  Lucile  had  made  a  plea 
to  her  for  St.  Vincent,  and  now  it  was  Colonel  Treth 
away!  True,  there  had  been  a  false  quantity  some 
where,  but  now  it  seemed  doubly  false.  Could  it  be, 
after  all,  that  Lucile  was  mercenary?  These  thoughts 
crowded  upon  her  swiftly,  with  the  colonel  anxiously 
watching  her  face  the  while.  She  knew  she  must 
answer  quickly,  yet  was  distracted  by  an  involuntary 
admiration  for  his  bravery.  So  she  followed,  perforce, 
the  lead  of  her  heart,  and  consented. 

Yet  the  whole  thing  was  rather  strained  when  the 
four  of  them  came  together,  next  day,  in  Captain  Alex 
ander's  private  office.  There  was  a  gloomy  chill  about 
it.  Lucile  seemed  ready  to  cry,  and  showed  a  repressed 
perturbation  quite  unexpected  of  her ;  while,  try  as  she 
would,  Frona  could  not  call  upon  her  usual  sympathy 
to  drive  away  the  coldness  which  obtruded  intangibly 
between  them.  This,  in  turn,  had  a  consequent  effect 
on  Vance,  and  gave  a  certain  distance  to  his  manner 
which  forced  him  out  of  touch  even  with  the  colonel. 

Colonel  Trethaway  seemed  to  have  thrown  twenty 
years  off  his  erect  shoulders,  and  the  discrepancy  in  the 

222 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

match  which  Frona  had  felt  vanished  as  she  looked  at 
him.  "  He  has  lived  the  years  well,"  she  thought,  and 
prompted  mysteriously,  almost  with  vague  apprehen 
sion,  she  turned  her  eyes  to  Corliss.  But  if  the  groom 
had  thrown  off  twenty  years,  Vance  was  not  a  whit 
behind.  Since  their  last  meeting  he  had  sacrificed  his 
brown  moustache  to  the  frost,  and  his  smooth  face, 
smitten  with  health  and  vigor,  looked  uncommonly 
boyish ;  and  yet,  withal,  the  naked  upper  lip  advertised 
a  stiffness  and  resolution  hitherto  concealed.  Further 
more,  his  features  portrayed  a  growth,  and  his  eyes, 
which  had  been  softly  firm,  were  now  firm  with  the 
added  harshness  or  hardness  which  is  bred  of  coping 
with  things  and  coping  quickly, — the  stamp  of  execu- 
tiveness  which  is  pressed  upon  men  who  do,  and  upon 
all  men  who  do,  whether  they  drive  dogs,  buck  the  sea, 
or  dictate  the  policies  of  empires. 

When  the  simple  ceremony  was  over,  Frona  kissed 
Lucile;  but  Lucile  felt  that  there  was  a  subtle  some 
thing  wanting,  and  her  eyes  filled  with  unshed  tears. 
Trethaway,  who  had  felt  the  aloofness  from  the  start, 
caught  an  opportunity  with  Frona  while  Captain  Alex 
ander  and  Corliss  were  being  pleasant  to  Mrs.  Tretha 
way. 

"  What's  the  matter,  Frona?"  the  colonel  demanded, 
bluntly.  "  I  hope  you  did  not  come  under  protest.  I 
am  sorry,  not  for  you,  because  lack  of  frankness  de 
serves  nothing,  but  for  Lucile.  It  is  not  fair  to  her." 

:'  There  has  been  a  lack  of  frankness  throughout." 
Her  voice  trembled.  "  I  tried  my  best, — I  thought  I 
could  do  better, — but  I  cannot  feign  what  I  do  not 
feel.  I  am  sorry,  but  I  ....  I  am  disappointed. 
No,  I  cannot  explain,  and  to  you  least  of  all." 

223 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

"  Let's  be  above-board,  Frona.  St.  Vincent's  con 
cerned  ?" 

She  nodded. 

"  And  I  can  put  my  hand  right  on  the  spot.  First 
place,"  he  looked  to  the  side  and  saw  Lucile  steal 
ing  an  anxious  glance  to  him, — "  first  place,  only  the 
other  day  she  gave  you  a  song  about  St.  Vincent. 
Second  place,  and  therefore,  you  think  her  heart's  not 
in  this  present  proposition ;  that  she  doesn't  care  a  rap 
for  me ;  in  short,  that  she's  marrying  me  for  reinstate 
ment  and  spoils.  Isn't  that  it?" 

"  And  isn't  it  enough  ?  Oh,  I  am  disappointed, 
Colonel  Trethaway,  grievously,  in  her,  in  you,  in  my 
self." 

"  Don't  be  a  fool !  I  like  you  too  well  to  see  you 
make  yourself  one.  The  play's  been  too  quick,  that  is 
all.  Your  eye  lost  it.  Listen.  We've  kept  it  quiet, 
but  she's  in  with  the  elect  on  French  Hill.  Her  claim's 
prospected  the  richest  of  the  outfit.  Present  indication 
half  a  million  at  least.  In  her  own  name,  no  strings 
attached.  Couldn't  she  take  that  and  go  anywhere  in 
the  world  and  reinstate  herself?  And  for  that  matter, 
you  might  presume  that  I  am  marrying  her  for  spoils. 
Frona,  she  cares  for  me,  and  in  your  ear,  she's  too 
good  for  me.  My  hope  is  that  the  future  will  make 
up.  But  never  mind  that — haven't  got  the  time  now. 

"  You  consider  her  affection  sudden,  eh  ?  Let  me 
tell  yjou  we've  been  growing  into  each  other  from  the 
time  I  came  into  the  country,  and  with  our  eyes  open. 
St.  Vincent?  Pshaw!  I  knew  it  all  the  time.  She 
got  it  into  her  head  that  the  whole  of  him  wasn't  worth 
a  little  finger  of  you,  and  she  tried  to  break  things  up. 
[You'll  never  know  how  she  worked  with  him.  I  told 

224 


A   DAUGHTER   OF  THE   SNOWS 

her  she  didn't  know  the  Welse,  and  she  said  so,  too, 
after.    So  there  it  is ;  take  it  or  leave  it." 

"  But  what  do  you  think  about  St.  Vincent?" 

"  What  I  think  is  neither  here  nor  there ;  but  I'll 
tell  you  honestly  that  I  back  her  judgment.  But  that's 
not  the  point.  What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it? 
about  her?  now?" 

She  did  not  answer,  but  went  back  to  the  waiting 
group.  Lucile  saw  her  coming  and  watched  her  face. 

"  He's  been  telling  you ?" 

"  That  I  am  a  fool/'  Frona  answered.  "  And  I 
think  I  am."  And  with  a  smile,  "  I  take  it  on  faith 
that  I  am,  anyway.  I — I  can't  reason  it  out  just  now, 
but.  .  .  ." 

Captain  Alexander  discovered  a  prenuptial  joke 
just  about  then,  and  led  the  way  over  to  the  stove  to 
crack  it  upon  the  colonel,  and  Vance  went  along  to  see 
fair  play. 

"  It's  the  first  time,"  Lucile  was  saying,  "  and  it 
means  more  to  me,  so  much  more,  than  to  .... 
most  women.  I  am  afraid.  It  is  a  terrible  thing  for 
me  to  do.  But  I  do  love  him,  I  do!"  And  when  the 
joke  had  been  duly  digested  and  they  came  back,  she 
was  sobbing,  "  Dear,  dear  Frona." 

It  was  just  the  moment,  better  than  he  could  have 
chosen;  and  capped  and  mittened,  without  knocking, 
Jacob  Welse  came  in. 

"  The  uninvited  guest,"  was  his  greeting.  "  Is  it 
all  over?  So?"  And  he  swallowed  Lucile  up  in  his 
huge  bearskin.  "  Colonel,  your  hand,  and  your  pardon 
for  my  intruding,  and  your  regrets  for  not  giving  me 
the  word.  Come,  out  with  them!  Hello,  Corliss! 
Captain  Alexander,  a  good  day." 
is  225 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

"  What  have  I  done  ?"  Frona  wailed,  received  the 
bear-hug,  and  managed  to  press  his  hand  till  it  almost 
hurt. 

"  Had  to  back  the  game,"  he  whispered ;  and  this 
time  his  hand  did  hurt. 

"  Now,  colonel,  I  don't  know  what  your  plans  are, 
and  I  don't  care.  Call  them  off.  I've  got  a  little 
spread  down  to  the  house,  and  the  only  honest  case 
of  champagne  this  side  of  Circle.  Of  course,  you're 
coming,  Corliss,  and "  His  eye  roved  past  Cap 
tain  Alexander  with  hardly  a  pause. 

"  Of  course,"  came  the  answer  like  a  flash,  though 
the  Chief  Magistrate  of  the  Northwest  had  had  time 
to  canvass  the  possible  results  of  such  unofficial  action. 
"Got  a  hack?" 

Jacob  Welse  laughed  and  held  up  a  moccasined  foot. 

"  Walking  be — chucked !"  The  captain  started  im 
pulsively  towards  the  door.  "  I'll  have  the  sleds  up 
before  you're  ready.  Three  of  them,  and  bells  galore !" 

So  Trethaway's  forecast  was  correct,  and  Dawson 
vindicated  its  agglutinativeness  by  rubbing  its  eyes 
when  three  sleds,  with  three  scarlet-tuniced  policemen 
swinging  the  whips,  tore  down  its  main  street :  and  it 
rubbed  its  eyes  again  when  it  saw  the  occupants 
thereof. 

"  We  shall  live  quietly,"  Lucile  told  Frona.  "  The 
Klondike  is  not  all  the  world,  and  the  best  is  yet  to 
come." 

But  Jacob  Welse  said  otherwise.  "  We've  got  to 
make  this  thing  go,"  he  said  to  Captain  Alexander,  and 
Captain  Alexander  said  that  he  was,  unaccustomed  to 
backing  out. 

226 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE   SNOWS 

Mrs.  Schoville  emitted  preliminary  thunders,  mar 
shalled  the  other  women,  and  became  chronically  seis 
mic  and  unsafe. 

Lucile  went  nowhere  save  to  Frona's.  But  Jacob 
Welse,  who  rarely  went  anywhere,  was  often  to  be 
found  by  Colonel  Trethaway's  fireside,  and  not  only 
was  he  to  be  found  there,  but  he  usually  brought  some 
body  along.  "Anything  on  hand  this  evening?"  he 
was  wont  to  say  on  casual  meeting.  "  No  ?  Then 
come  along  with  me.5'  Sometimes  he  said  it  with  lamb 
like  innocence,  sometimes  with  a  challenge  brooding 
under  his  bushy  brows,  and  rarely  did  he  fail  to  get  his 
man.  These  men  had  wives,  and  thus  were  the  germs 
of  dissolution  sown  in  the  ranks  of  the  opposition. 

Then,  again,  at  Colonel  Trethaway's  there  was 
something  to  be  found  besides  weak  tea  and  small  talk ; 
and  the  correspondents,  engineers,  and  gentlemen 
rovers  kept  the  trail  well  packed  in  that  direction, 
though  it  was  the  Kings,  to  a  man,  who  first  broke  the 
way.  So  the  Trethaway  cabin  became  the  centre  of 
things,  and,  backed  commercially,  financially,  and  offi 
cially,  it  could  not  fail  to  succeed  socially. 

The  only  bad  effect  of  all  this  was  to  make  the  lives 
of  Mrs.  Schoville  and  divers  others  of  her  sex  more 
monotonous,  and  to  cause  them  to  lose  faith  in  certain 
hoary  and  inconsequent  maxims.  Furthermore,  Cap 
tain  Alexander,  as  highest  official,  was  a  power  in  the 
land,  and  Jacob  Welse  was  the  Company,  and  there 
was  a  superstition  extant  concerning  the  unwisdom 
of  being  on  indifferent  terms  with  the  Company.  And 
the  time  was  not  long  till  probably  a  bare  half-dozen 
remained  in  outer  cold,  and  they  were  considered  a 
warped  lot,  anyway. 

227 


CHAPTER  XXII 


QUITE  an  exodus  took  place  in  Dawson  in  the  spring. 
Men,  because  they  had  made  stakes,  and  other  men, 
because  they  had  made  none,  bought  up  the  available 
dogs  and  rushed  out  for  Dyea  over  the  last  ice.  Inci 
dentally,  it  was  discovered  that  Dave  Harney  possessed 
most  of  these  dogs. 

"  Going  out  ?"  Jacob  Welse  asked  him  on  a  day  when 
the  meridian  sun  for  the  first  time  felt  faintly  warm  to 
the  naked  skin. 

"  Well,  I  calkilate  not.  I'm  clearin'  three  dollars  a 
pair  on  the  moccasins  I  cornered,  to  say  nothing  but 
saw  wood  on  the  boots.  Say,  Welse,  not  that  my  nose 
is  out  of  joint,  but  you  jest  cinched  me  everlastin'  on 
sugar,  didn't  you  ?" 

Jacob  Welse  smiled. 

"  And  by  the  Jimcracky  I'm  squared !  Got  any  rub 
ber  boots  ?" 

"  No ;  went  .out  of  stock  early  in  the  winter." 

Dave  snickered  slowly.  "  And  I'm  the  pertickler 
party  that  hocus-pocused  'em." 

"  Not  you.  I  gave  special  orders  to  the  clerks.  They 
weren't  sold  in  lots." 

"  No  more  they  wa'n't.  One  man  to  the  pair  and 
one  pair  to  the  man,  and  a  couple  of  hundred  of  them ; 
but  it  was  my  dust  they  chucked  into  the  scales  an* 
nobody  else's.  Drink?  Don't  mind.  Easy!  Put  up 

228 


A    DAUGHTER    OF   THE   SNOWS 

your  sack.  Call  it  rebate,  for  I  kin  afford  it.  .  .  . 
Coin*  out?  Not  this  year,  I  guess.  Wash-up's 
comin'." 

A  strike  on  Henderson  the  middle  of  April,  which 
promised  to  be  sensational,  drew  St.  Vincent  to  Stew 
art  River.  And  a  little  later,  Jacob  Welse,  interested 
on  Gallagher  Gulch  and  with  an  eye  riveted  on  the 
copper  mines  of  White  River,  went  up  into  the  same 
district,  and  with  him  went  Frona,  for  it  was  more 
vacation  than  business.  In  the  mean  time,  Corliss  and 
Bishop,  who  had  been  on  trail  for  a  month  or  more 
running  over  the  Mayo  and  McQuestion  Country, 
rounded  up  on  the  left  fork  of  Henderson,  where  a 
block  of  claims  waited  to  be  surveyed. 

But  by  May,  spring  was  so  far  advanced  that  travel 
on  the  creeks  became  perilous,  and  on  the  last  of  the 
thawing  ice  the  miners  travelled  down  to  the  bunch  of 
islands  below  the  mouth  of  the  Stewart,  where  they 
went  into  temporary  quarters  or  crowded  the  hospital 
ity  of  those  who  possessed  cabins.  Corliss  and  Bishop 
located  on  Split-up  Island  (so  called  through  the  habit 
parties  from  the  Outside  had  of  dividing  there  and 
going  several  ways),  where  Tommy  McPherson  was 
comfortably  situated.  A  couple  of  days  later,  Jacob 
Welse  and  Frona  arrived  from  a  hazardous  trip  out 
of  White  River,  and  pitched  tent  on  the  high  ground  at 
the  upper  end  of  Split-up.  A  few  chechaquos,  the  first 
of  the  spring  rush,  strung  in  exhausted  and  went  into 
camp  against  the  breaking  of  the  river.  Also,  there 
were  still  men  going  out  who,  barred  by  the  rotten 
ice,  came  ashore  to  build  poling-boats  and  await  the 
break-up  or  to  negotiate  with  the  residents  for  canoes. 
Notably  among  these  was  the  Baron  Courbertin. 

"Ah!    Excruciating!    Magnificent!    Is  it  not?" 
229 


A    DAUGHTER    OF   THE   SNOWS 

So  Frona  first  ran  across  him  on  the  following  day. 
"  What  ?"  she  asked,  giving  him  her  hand. 

"  You !    You !"  doffing  his  cap.    "  It  is  a  delight  I" 

"  I  am  sure "  she  began. 

"  No !  No !"  He  shook  his  curly  mop  warmly.  "  It 
is  not  you.  See !"  He  turned  to  a  Peterborough,  for 
which  McPherson  had  just  mulcted  him  of  thrice  its 
value.  "  The  canoe !  Is  it  not — not — what  you  Yan 
kees  call — a  bute  ?" 

"  Oh,  the  canoe,"  she  repeated,  with  a  falling  inflec 
tion  of  chagrin. 

"  No !  No !  Pardon !"  He  stamped  angrily  upon 
the  ground.  "  It  is  not  so.  It  is  not  you.  It  is  not  the 
canoe.  It  is — ah !  I  have  it  now !  It  is  your  promise. 
One  day,  do  you  not  remember,  at  Madame  Schoville's, 
we  talked  of  the  canoe,  and  of  my  ignorance,  which 
was  sad,  and  you  promised,  you  said " 

"  I  would  give  you  your  first  lesson  ?" 

"  And  is  it  not  delightful  ?  Listen !  Do  you  not 
hear  ?  The  rippling — ah !  the  rippling ! — deep  down  at 
the  heart  of  things!  Soon  will  the  water  run  free. 
Here  is  the  canoe !  Here  we  meet !  The  first  lesson ! 
Delightful !  Delightful  I" 

The  next  island  below  Split-up  was  known  as  Rou- 
beau's  Island,  and  was  separated  from  the  former  by 
a  narrow  back-channel.  Here,  when  the  bottom  had 
about  dropped  out  of  the  trail,  and  with  the  dogs 
swimming  as  often  as  not,  arrived  St.  Vincent — the 
last  man  to  travel  the  winter  trail.  He  went  into  the 
cabin  of  John  Borg,  a  taciturn,  gloomy  individual, 
prone  to  segregate  himself  from  his  kind.  It  was  the 
mischance  of  St.  Vincent's  life  that  of  all  cabins  he 
chose  Borg's  for  an  abiding-place  against  the  break-up. 

230 


A    DAUGHTER    OF   THE    SNOWS 

"  All  right/'  the  man  said,  when  questioned  by  him. 
"  Throw  your  blankets  into  the  corner.  Bella'll  clear 
the  litter  out  of  the  spare  bunk." 

Not  till  evening  did  he  speak  again,  and  then, 
"  You're  big  enough  to  do  your  own  cooking.  When 
the  woman's  done  with  the  stove  you  can  fire  away." 

The  woman,  or  Bella,  was  a  comely  Indian  girl, 
young,  and  the  prettiest  St.  Vincent  had  run  across. 
Instead  of  the  customary  greased  swarthiness  of  the 
race,  her  skin  was  clear  and  of  a  light-bronze  tone,  and 
her  features  less  harsh,  more  felicitously  curved,  than 
those  common  to  the  blood. 

After  supper,  Borg,  both  elbows  on  table  and  huge 
misshapen  hands  supporting  chin  and  jaws,  sat  pufHng 
stinking  Siwash  tobacco  and  staring  straight  before 
him.  It  would  have  seemed  ruminative,  the  stare,  had 
his  eyes  been  softer  or  had  he  blinked;  as  it  was,  his 
face  was  set  and  trance-like. 

"Have  you  been  in  the  country  long?"  St.  Vincent 
asked,  endeavoring  to  make  conversation. 

Borg  turned  his  sullen-black  eyes  upon  him,  and 
seemed  to  look  into  him  and  through  him  and  beyond 
him,  and,  still  regarding  him,  to  have  forgotten  all 
about  him.  It  was  as  though  he  pondered  some  great 
and  weighty  matter  —  probably  his  sins,  the  corre 
spondent  mused  nervously,  rolling  himself  a  cigarette. 
When  the  yellow  cube  had  dissipated  itself  in  curling 
fragrance,  and  he  was  deliberating  about  rolling  a  sec 
ond,  Borg  suddenly  spoke. 

"  Fifteen  years,"  he  said,  and  returned  to  his  tre 
mendous  cogitation. 

Thereat,  and  for  half  an  hour  thereafter,  St.  Vin 
cent,  fascinated,  studied  his  inscrutable  countenance. 

231 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

To  begin  with,  it  was  a  massive  head,  abnormal  and 
top-heavy,  and  its  only  excuse  for  being  was  the 
huge  bull-throat  which  supported  it.  It  had  been  cast 
in  a  mould  of  elemental  generousness,  and  everything 
about  it  partook  of  the  asymmetrical  crudeness  of  the 
elemental.  The  hair,  rank  of  growth,  thick  and  un 
kempt,  matted  itself  here  and  there  into  curious 
splotches  of  gray ;  and  again,  grinning  at  age,  twisted 
itself  into  curling  locks  of  lustreless  black — locks  of 
unusual  thickness,  like  crooked  ringers,  heavy  and 
solid.  The  shaggy  whiskers,  almost  bare  in  places, 
and  in  others  massing  into  bunchgrass-like  clumps, 
were  plentifully  splashed  with  gray.  They  rioted 
monstrously  over  his  face  and  fell  raggedly  to  his 
chest,  but  failed  to  hide  the  great  hollowed  cheeks  or 
the  twisted  mouth.  The  latter  was  thin-lipped  and 
cruel,  but  cruel  only  in  a  passionless  sort  of  way.  But 
the  forehead  was  the  anomaly, — the  anomaly  required 
to  complete  the  irregularity  of  the  face.  For  it  was  a 
perfect  forehead,  full  and  broad,  and  rising  superbly 
strong  to  its  high  dome.  It  was  as  the  seat  and  bul 
wark  of  some  vast  intelligence;  omniscience  might 
have  brooded  there. 

Bella,  washing  the  dishes  and  placing  them  away 
on  the  shelf  behind  Borg's  back,  dropped  a  heavy  tin 
cup.  The  cabin  was  very  still,  and  the  sharp  rattle 
came  without  warning.  On  the  instant,  with  a  brute 
roar,  the  chair  was  overturned  and  Borg  was  on  his 
feet,  eyes  blazing  and  face  convulsed.  Bella  gave  an 
inarticulate,  animal-like  cry  of  fear  and  cowered  at  his 
feet.  St.  Vincent  felt  his  hair  bristling,  and  an  uncanny 
chill,  like  a  jet  of  cold  air,  played  up  and  down  his 
spine.  Then  Borg  righted  the  chair  and  sank  back 

232 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE    SNOWS 

into  his  old  position,  chin  on  hands  and  brooding  pon 
derously.  Not  a  word  was  spoken,  and  Bella  went  on 
unconcernedly  with  the  dishes,  while  St.  Vincent  rolled 
a  shaky  cigarette  and  wondered  if  it  had  been  a  dream. 

Jacob  Welse  laughed  when  the  correspondent  told 
him.  "  Just  his  way,"  he  said ;  "  for  his  ways  are  like 
his  looks, — unusual.  He's  an  unsociable  beast.  Been 
in  the  country  more  years  than  he  can  number  ac 
quaintances.  Truth  to  say,  I  don't  think  he  has  a 
friend  in  all  Alaska,  not  even  among  the  Indians,  and 
he's  chummed  thick  with  them  off  and  on.  '  Johnny 
Sorehead,'  they  call  him,  but  it  might  as  well  be 
'  Johnny  Break-um-head/  for  he's  got  a  quick  temper 
and  a  rough  hand.  Temper!  Some  little  misunder 
standing  popped  up  between  him  and  the  agent  at 
Arctic  City.  He  was  in  the  right,  too, — agent's  mis 
take, — but  he  tabooed  the  Company  on  the  spot  and 
lived  on  straight  meat  for  a  year.  Then  I  happened  to 
run  across  him  at  Tanana  Station,  and  after  due  expla 
nations  he  consented  to  buy  from  us  again." 

"  Got  the  girl  from  up  the  head-waters  of  the 
White,"  Bill  Brown  told  St.  Vincent.  "  Welse  thinks 
he's  pioneering  in  that  direction,  but  Borg  could  give 
him  cards  and  spades  on  it  and  then  win  out.  He's 
been  over  the  ground  years  ago.  Yes,  strange  sort  of 
a  chap.  Wouldn't  hanker  to  be  bunk-mates  with  him." 

But  St.  Vincent  did  not  mind  the  eccentricities  of  the 
man,  for  he  spent  most  of  his  time  on  Split-up  Island 
with  Frona  and  the  Baron.  One  day,  however,  and 
innocently,  he  ran  foul  of  him.  Two  Swedes,  hunt 
ing  tree-squirrels  from  the  other  end  of  Roubeau 
Island,  had  stopped  to  ask  for  matches  and  to  yarn  a 
while  in  the  warm  sunshine  of  the  clearing.  St.  Vin- 

233 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

cent  and  Borg  were  accommodating  them,  the  latter 
for  the  most  part  in  meditative  monosyllables.  Just  to 
the  rear,  by  the  cabin-door,  Bella  was  washing  clothes. 
The  tub  was  a  cumbersome  home-made  affair,  and, 
half-full  of  water,  was  more  than  a  fair  match  for  an 
ordinary  woman.  The  correspondent  noticed  her 
struggling  with  it,  and  stepped  back  quickly  to  her  aid. 

With  the  tub  between  them,  they  proceeded  to  carry 
it  to  one  side  in  order  to  dump  it  where  the  ground 
drained  from  the  cabin.  St.  Vincent  slipped  in  the 
thawing  snow  and  the  soapy  water  splashed  up.  Then 
Bella  slipped,  and  then  they  both  slipped.  Bella  gig 
gled  and  laughed,  and  St.  Vincent  laughed  back.  The 
spring  was  in  the  air  and  in  their  blood,  and  it  was 
very  good  to  be  alive.  Only  a  wintry  heart  could  deny 
a  smile  on  such  a  day.  Bella  slipped  again,  tried  to 
recover,  slipped  with  the  other  foot,  and  sat  down  ab 
ruptly.  Laughing  gleefully,  both  of  them,  the  corre 
spondent  caught  her  hands  to  pull  her  to  her  feet. 
With  a  bound  and  a  bellow,  Borg  was  upon  them. 
Their  hands  were  torn  apart  and  St.  Vincent  thrust 
heavily  backward.  He  staggered  for  a  couple  of  yards 
and  almost  fell.  Then  the  scene  of  the  cabin  was  re 
peated.  Bella  cowered  and  grovelled  in  the  muck,  and 
her  lord  towered  wrathfully  over  her. 

"  Look  you,"  he  said  in  stifled  gutturals,  turning  to 
St.  Vincent.  "  You  sleep  in  my  cabin  and  you  cook. 
That  is  enough.  Let  my  woman  alone." 

Things  went  on  after  that  as  though  nothing  had 
happened;  St.  Vincent  gave  Bella  a  wide  berth  and 
seemed  to  have  forgotten  her  existence.  But  the  Swedes 
went  back  to  their  end  of  the  island,  laughing  at  the 
trivial  happening  which  was  destined  to  be  significant. 

234 


CHAPTER  XXIII 


SPRING,  smiting  with  soft,  warm  hands,  had  come 
like  a  miracle,  and  now  lingered  for  a  dreamy  spell 
before  bursting  into  full-blown  summer.  The  snow 
had  left  the  bottoms  and  valleys  and  nestled  only  on 
the  north  slopes  of  the  ice-scarred  ridges.  The  glacial 
drip  was  already  in  evidence,  and  every  creek  in  roar 
ing  spate.  Each  day  the  sun  rose  earlier  and  stayed 
later.  It  was  now  chill  day  by  three  o'clock  and  mel 
low  twilight  at  nine.  Soon  a  golden  circle  would  be 
drawn  around  the  sky,  and  deep  midnight  become 
bright  as  high  noon.  The  willows  and  aspens  had  long 
since  budded,  and  were  now  decking  themselves  in 
liveries  of  fresh  young  green,  and  the  sap  was  rising 
in  the  pines. 

Mother  nature  had  heaved  her  waking  sigh  and 
gone  about  her  brief  business.  Crickets  sang  of  nights 
in  the  stilly  cabins,  and  in  the  sunshine  mosquitoes 
crept  from  out  hollow  logs  and  snug  crevices  among 
the  rocks, — big,  noisy,  harmless  fellows,  that  had 
procreated  the  year  gone,  lain  frozen  through  the 
winter,  and  were  now  rejuvenated  to  buzz  through 
swift  senility  to  second  death.  All  sorts  of  creeping, 
crawling,  fluttering  life  came  forth  from  the  warming 
earth  and  hastened  to  mature,  reproduce,  and  cease. 
Just  a  breath  of  balmy  air,  and  then  the  long  cold  frost 
again — ah !  they  knew  it  well  and  lost  no  time.  Sand 

235 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

martins  were  driving  their  ancient  tunnels  into  the 
soft  clay  banks,  and  robins  singing  on  the  spruce- 
garbed  islands.  Overhead  the  woodpecker  knocked 
insistently,  and  in  the  forest  depths  the  partridge 
boom-boomed  and  strutted  in  virile  glory. 

But  in  all  this  nervous  haste  the  Yukon  took  no 
part.  For  many  a  thousand  miles  it  lay  cold,  un 
smiling,  dead.  Wild  fowl,  driving  up  from  the  south 
in  wind- jamming  wedges,  halted,  looked  vainly  for 
open  water,  and  quested  dauntlessly  on  into  the  north. 
From  bank  to  bank  stretched  the  savage  ice.  Here  and 
there  the  water  burst  through  and  flooded  over,  but  in 
the  chill  nights  froze  solidly  as  ever.  Tradition  has 
it  that  of  old  time  the  Yukon  lay  unbroken  through 
three  long  summers,  and  on  the  face  of  it  there  be  tra 
ditions  less  easy  of  belief. 

So  summer  waited  for  open  water,  and  the  tardy 
Yukon  took  to  stretching  of  days  and  cracking  its  stiff 
joints.  Now  an  air-hole  ate  into  the  ice,  and  ate  and 
ate ;  or  a  fissure  formed,  and  grew,  and  failed  to  freeze 
again.  Then  the  ice  ripped  from  the  shore  and  uprose 
bodily  a  yard.  But  still  the  river  was  loth  to  loose  its 
grip.  It  was  a  slow  travail,  and  man,  used  to  nursing 
nature  with  pigmy  skill,  able  to  burst  waterspouts  and 
harness  waterfalls,  could  avail  nothing  against  the  bil 
lions  of  frigid  tons  which  refused  to  run  down  the  hill 
to  Bering  Sea. 

On  Split-up  Island  all  were  ready  for  the  break-up. 
Waterways  have  ever  been  first  highways,  and  the 
Yukon  was  the  sole  highway  in  all  the  land.  So  those 
bound  up-river  pitched  their  poling-boats  and  shod 
their  poles  with  iron,  and  those  bound  down  caulked 
their  scows  and  barges  and  shaped  spare  sweeps  with 

236 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE    SNOWS 

axe  and  drawing-knife.  Jacob  Welse  loafed  and  joyed 
in  the  utter  cessation  from  work,  and  Frona  joyed  with 
him  in  that  it  was  good.  But  Baron  Courbertin  was 
in  a  fever  at  the  delay.  His  hot  blood  grew  riotous 
after  the  long  hibernation,  and  the  warm  sunshine  daz 
zled  him  with  warmer  fancies. 

"Oh!  Oh!  It  will  never  break !  Never!"  And  he 
stood  gazing  at  the  surly  ice  and  raining  politely 
phrased  anathema  upon  it.  "  It  is  a  conspiracy,  poor_ 
La  Bijou,  a  conspiracy!"  He  caressed  La  Bijou  like  it 
were  a  horse,  Jfor  so  he  had  christened  the  glistening 
Peterborough  canoe. 

Frona  arid  St.  Vincent  laughed  and  preached  him 
the  gospel  of  patience,  which  he  proceeded  to  tuck 
away  into  the  deepest  abysses  of  perdition  till  inter 
rupted  by  Jacob  Welse. 

"  Look,  Courbertin !  Over  there,  south  of  the  bluff. 
Do  you  make  out  anything?  Moving?" 

"Yes;  a  dog." 

"  It  moves  too  slowly  for  a  dog.  Frona,  get  the 
glasses." 

Courbertin  and  St.  Vincent  sprang  after  them,  but 
the  latter  knew  their  abiding-place  and  returned  tri 
umphant.  Jacob  Welse  put  the  binoculars  to  his  eyes 
and  gazed  steadily  across  the  river.  It  was  a  sheer 
mile  from  the  island  to  the  farther  bank,  and  the  sun- 
glare  on  the  ice  was  a  sore  task  to  the  vision. 

"  It  is  a  man."  He  passed  the  glasses  to  the  Baron 
and  strained  absently  with  his  naked  eyes.  "  And 
something  is  up." 

"  He  creeps !"  the  baron  exclaimed.  "  The  man 
creeps,  he  crawls,  on  hand  and  knee!  Look!  See!" 
He  thrust  the  glasses  tremblingly  into  Frona's  hands. 

237 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE   SNOWS 

Looking  across  the  void  of  shimmering  white,  it  was 
difficult  to  discern  a  dark  object  of  such  size  when 
dimly  outlined  against  an  equally  dark  background  of 
brush  and  earth.  But  Frona  could  make  the  man  out 
with  fair  distinctness ;  and  as  she  grew  accustomed  to 
the  strain  she  could  distinguish  each  movement,  and 
especially  so  when  he  came  to  a  wind-thrown  pine. 
She  watched  painfully.  Twice,  after  tortuous  effort, 
squirming  and  twisting,  he  failed  in  breasting  the  big 
trunk,  and  on  the  third  attempt,  after  infinite  exertion, 
he  cleared  it  only  to  topple  helplessly  forward  and  fall 
on  his  face  in  the  tangled  undergrowth. 

"  It  is  a  man."  She  turned  the  glasses  over  to  St. 
Vincent.  "  And  he  is  crawling  feebly.  He  fell  just 
then  this  side  of  the  log." 

"  Does  he  move  ?"  Jacob  Welse  asked,  and,  on  a 
shake  of  St.  Vincent's  head,  brought  his  rifle  from  the 
tent. 

He  fired  six  shots  skyward  in  rapid  succession. 

"  He  moves !"  The  correspondent  followed  him 
closely.  "  He  is  crawling  to  the  bank.  Ah !  .  .  .  . 
No;  one  moment  ....  Yes!  He  lies  on  the 
ground  and  raises  his  hat,  or  something,  on  a  stick. 
He  is  waving  it."  (Jacob  Welse  fired  six  more  shots.) 
"  He  waves  again.  Now  he  has  dropped  it  and  lies 
quite  still." 

All  three  looked  inquiringly  to  Jacob  Welse. 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  How  should  I  know  ? 
A  white  man  or  an  Indian;  starvation  most  likely,  or 
else  he  is  injured." 

"  But  he  may  be  dying,"  Frona  pleaded,  as  though 
her  father,  who  had  done  most  things,  could  do  all 
things. 

238 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE    SNOWS 

"  We  can  do  nothing." 

"  Ah !  Terrible !  terrible !"  The  baron  wrung  his 
hands.  "  Before  our  very  eyes,  and  we  can  do  noth 
ing!  No!"  he  exclaimed,  with  swift  resolution,  'lit 
shall  not  be!  I  will  cross  the  ice!" 

He  would  have  started  precipitately  down  the  bank 
had  not  Jacob  Welse  caught  his  arm. 

"  Not  such  a  rush,  baron.    Keep  your  head." 

«  But " 

"  But  nothing.  Does  the  man  want  food,  or  medi 
cine,  or  what?  Wait  a  moment.  We  will  try  it 
together." 

"  Count  me  in,"  St.  Vincent  volunteered  promptly, 
and  Frona's  eyes  sparkled. 

While  she  made  up  a  bundle  of  food  in  the  tent,  the 
men  provided  and  rigged  themselves  with  sixty  or  sev 
enty  feet  of  light  rope.  Jacob  Welse  and  St.  Vincent 
made  themselves  fast  to  it  at  either  end,  and  the  baron 
in  the  middle.  He  claimed  the  food  as  his  portion,  and 
strapped  it  to  his  broad  shoulders.  Frona  watched 
their  progress  from  the  bank.  The  first  hundred 
yards  were  easy  going,  but  she  noticed  at  once  the 
change  when  they  had  passed  the  limit  of  the  fairly 
solid  shore-ice.  Her  father  led  sturdily,  feeling  ahead 
and  to  the  side  with  his  staff  and  changing  direction 
continually. 

St.  Vincent,  at  the  rear  of  the  extended  line,  was 
the  first  to  go  through,  but  he  fell  with  the  pole  thrust 
deftly  across  the  opening  and  resting  on  the  ice.  His 
head  did  not  go  under,  though  the  current  sucked 
powerfully,  and  the  two  men  dragged  him  out  after  a 
sharp  pull.  Frona  saw  them  consult  together  for  a 
minute,  with  much  pointing  and  gesticulating  on  the 

239 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

part  of  the  baron,  and  then  St.  Vincent  detach  him 
self  and  turn  shoreward. 

"  Br-r-r-r,"  he  shivered,  coming  up  the  bank  to  her. 
"  It's  impossible." 

"  But  why  didn't  they  come  in  ?"  she  asked,  a  slight 
note  of  displeasure  manifest  in  her  voice. 

"  Said  they  were  going  to  make  one  more  try,  first. 
That  Courbertin  is  hot-headed,  you  know." 

"  And  my  father  just  as  bull-headed,"  she  smiled. 
"  But  hadn't  you  better  change  ?  There  are  spare 
things  in  the  tent." 

"  Oh,  no."  He  threw  himself  down  beside  her. 
"  It's  warm  in  the  sun." 

For  an  hour  they  watched  the  two  men,  who  had  be 
come  mere  specks  of  black  in  the  distance ;  for  they 
had  managed  to  gain  the  middle  of  the  river  and  at  the 
same  time  had  worked  nearly  a  mile  up-stream.  Frona 
followed  them  closely  with  the  glasses,  though  often 
they  were  lost  to  sight  behind  the  ice-ridges. 

"  It  was  unfair  of  them,"  she  heard  St.  Vincent  com 
plain,  "  to  say  they  were  only  going  to  have  one  more 
try.  Otherwise  I  should  not  have  turned  back.  Yet 
they  can't  make  it — absolutely  impossible." 

"  Yes  ....  No  ....  Yes !  They're  turning 
back,"  she  announced.  "But  listen!  What  is  that?" 

A  hoarse  rumble,  like  distant  thunder,  rose  from  the 
midst  of  the  ice.  She  sprang  to  her  feet.  "  Gregory, 
the  river  can't  be  breaking !" 

"  No,  no ;  surely  not.  See,  it  is  gone."  The  noise 
which  had  come  from  above  had  died  away  down 
stream. 

"But  there!    There!" 

Another  rumble,  hoarser  and  more  ominous  than 
240 


WE  CAN  KEEP  AHEAD,      FRONA  PANTED 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE   SNOWS 

before,  lifted  itself  and  hushed  the  robins  and  the 
squirrels.  When  abreast  of  them,  it  sounded  like  a 
railroad  train  on  a  distant  trestle.  A  third  rumble, 
which  approached  a  roar  and  was  of  greater  duration, 
began  from  above  and  passed  by. 

"  Oh,  why  don't  they  hurry !" 

The  two  specks  had  stopped,  evidently  in  conversa 
tion.  She  ran  the  glasses  hastily  up  and  down  the 
river.  Though  another  roar  had  risen,  she  could  make 
out  no  commotion.  The  ice  lay  still  and  motionless. 
The  robins  resumed  their  singing,  and  the  squirrels 
were  chattering  with  spiteful  glee. 

"  Don't  fear,  Frona."  St.  Vincent  put  his  arm  about 
her  protectingly.  "  If  there  is  any  danger,  they  know 
it  better  than  we.  and  they  are  taking  their  time." 

"  I  never  saw  a  big  river  break  up,"  she  confessed, 
and  resigned  herself  to  the  waiting. 

The  roars  rose  and  fell  sporadically,  but  there  were 
no  other  signs  of  disruption,  and  gradually  the  two 
men,  with  frequent  duckings,  worked  inshore.  The 
water  was  streaming  from  them  and  they  were  shiver 
ing  severely  as  they  came  up  the  bank. 

"  At  last !"  Frona  had  both  her  father's  hands  in 
hers.  "  I  thought  you  would  never  come  back." 

"  There,  there.  Run  and  get  dinner,"  Jacob  Welse 
laughed.  "  There  was  no  danger." 

"But  what  was  it?" 

"  Stewart  River's  broken  and  sending  its  ice  down 
under  the  Yukon  ice.  We  could  hear  the  grinding 
plainly  out  there." 

"  Ah !  And  it  was  terrible !  terrible !"  cried  the 
baron.  "  And  that  poor,  poor  man,  we  cannot  save 
him!" 

16  241 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

"  Yes,  we  can.  We'll  have  a  try  with  the  dogs  after 
dinner.  Hurry,  Frona." 

But  the  dogs  were  a  failure.  Jacob  Welse  picked 
out  the  leaders  as  the  more  intelligent,  and  with  grub- 
packs  on  them  drove  them  out  from  the  bank.  They 
could  not  grasp  what  was  demanded  of  them.  When 
ever  they  tried  to  return  they  were  driven  back  with 
sticks  and  clods  and  imprecations.  This  only  bewildered 
them,  and  they  retreated  out  of  range,  whence  they 
raised  their  wet,  cold  paws  and  whined  pitifully  to 
the  shore. 

"  If  they  could  only  make  it  once,  they  would  under 
stand,  and  then  it  would  go  like  clock-work.  Ah! 
Would  you  ?  Go  on !  Chook,  Miriam !  Chook !  The 
thing  is  to  get  the  first  one  across." 

Jacob  Welse  finally  succeeded  in  getting  Miriam, 
lead-dog  to  Frona's  team,  to  take  the  trail  left  by  him 
and  the  baron.  The  dog  went  on  bravely,  scrambling 
over,  floundering  through,  and  sometimes  swimming; 
but  when  she  had  gained  the  farthest  point  reached  by 
them,  she  sat  down  helplessly.  Later  on,  she  cut  back 
to  the  shore  at  a  tangent,  landing  on  the  deserted 
island  above;  and  an  hour  afterwards  trotted  into 
camp  minus  the  grub-pack.  Then  the  two  dogs, 
hovering  just  out  of  range,  compromised  matters 
by  devouring  each  other's  burdens ;  after  which  the 
attempt  was  given  over  and  they  were  called  in. 

During  the  afternoon  the  noise  increased  in  fre 
quency,  and  by  nightfall  was  continuous,  but  by  morn 
ing  it  had  ceased  utterly.  The  river  had  risen  eight 
feet,  and  in  many  places  was  running  over  its  crust. 
Much  crackling  and  splitting  were  going  on,  and  fis 
sures  leaping  into  life  and  multiplying  in  all  directions. 

242 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

"  The  under-tow  ice  has  jammed  below  among  the 
islands,"  Jacob  Welse  explained.  "  That's  what 
caused  the  rise.  Then,  again,  it  has  jammed  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Stewart  and  is  backing  up.  When  that 
breaks  through,  it  will  go  down  underneath  and  stick 
on  the  lower  jam." 

"  And  then  ?  and  then  ?"    The  baron  exulted. 

"  La  Bijou  will  swim  again." 

As  the  light  grew  stronger,  they  searched  for  the 
man  across, 'the  river.  He  had  not  moved,  but  in  re 
sponse  to  their  rifle-shots  waved  feebly. 

"  Nothing  for  it  till  the  river  breaks,  baron,  and 
then  a  dash  with  La  Bijou.  St.  Vincent,  you  had  bet 
ter  bring  your  blankets  up  and  sleep  here  to-night. 
We'll  need  three  paddles,  and  I  think  we  can  get  Mc- 
Pherson." 

"  No  need,"  the  correspondent  hastened  to  reply. 
"  The  back-channel  is  like  adamant,  and  I'll  be  up  by 
daybreak." 

"  But  I?    Why  not?"    Baron  Courbertin  demanded. 

Frona  laughed.  "  Remember,  we  haven't  given  you 
your  first  lessons  yet." 

"  And  there'll  hardly  be  time  to-morrow,"  Jacob 
Welse  added.  "  When  she  goes,  she  goes  with  a  rush. 
St.  Vincent,  McPherson,  and  I  will  have  to  make  the 
crew,  I'm  afraid.  Sorry,  baron.  Stay  with  us  another 
year  and  you'll  be  fit." 

But  Baron  Courbertin  was  inconsolable,  and  sulked 
for  a  full  half-hour. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 


"  AWAKE  !    You  dreamers,  wake !" 

Frona  was  out  of  her  sleeping-furs  at  Del  Bishop's 
first  call ;  but  ere  she  had  slipped  a  skirt  on  and  bare 
feet  into  moccasins,  her  father,  beyond  the  blanket- 
curtain,  had  thrown  back  the  flaps  of  the  tent  and 
stumbled  out. 

The  river  was  up.  In  the  chill  gray  light  she  could 
see  the  ice  rubbing  softly  against  the  very  crest  of  the 
bank;  it  even  topped  it  in  places,  and  the  huge  cakes 
worked  inshore  many  feet.  A  hundred  yards  out  the 
white  field  merged  into  the  dim  dawn  and  the  gray 
sky.  Subdued  splits  and  splutters  whispered  from  out 
the  obscureness,  and  a  gentle  grinding  could  be  heard. 

"  When  will  it  go?"  she  asked  of  Del. 

"Not  a  bit  too  lively  for  us.  See  there!"  He 
pointed  with  his  toe  to  the  water  lapping  out  from 
under  the  ice  and  creeping  greedily  towards  them.  "  A 
foot  rise  every  ten  minutes." 

"  Danger?"  he  scoffed.  "  Not  on  your  life.  It's  got 
to  go.  Them  islands" — waving  his  hand  indefinitely 
down  river — "  can't  hold  up  under  more  pressure.  If 
they  don't  let  go  the  ice,  the  ice'll  scour  them  clean  out 
of  the  bed  of  the  Yukon.  Sure!  But  I've  got  to  be 
chasin'  back.  Lower  ground  down  our  way.  Fifteen 
inches  on  the  cabin  floor,  and  McPherson  and  Corliss 
hustlin'  perishables  into  the  bunks." 

244 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE   SNOWS 

"Tell  McPherson  to  be  ready  for  a  call/'  Jacob 
Welse  shouted  after  him.  And  then  to  Frona,  ic  Now's 
the  time  for  St.  Vincent  to  cross  the  back-channel." 

The  baron,  shivering  barefooted,  pulled  out  his 
watch.  "  Ten  minutes  to  three/'  he  chattered. 

"  Hadn't  you  better  go  back  and  get  your  mocca 
sins  ?"  Frona  asked.  "  There  will  be  time." 

"  And  miss  the  magnificence  ?    Hark !" 

From  nowhere  in  particular  a  brisk  crackling  arose, 
then  died  away.  The  ice  was  in  motion.  Slowly,  very 
slowly,  it  proceeded  down  stream.  There  was  no  com 
motion,  no  ear-splitting  thunder,  no  splendid  display 
of  force;  simply  a  silent  flood  of  white,  an  orderly 
procession  of  tight-packed  ice — packed  so  closely  that 
not  a  drop  of  water  was  in  evidence.  It  was  there, 
somewhere,  down  underneath;  but  it  had  to  be  taken 
on  faith.  There  was  a  dull  hum  or  muffled  grating, 
but  so  low  in  pitch  that  the  ear  strained  to  catch  it. 

"  Ah !    Where  is  the  magnificence  ?    It  is  a  fake !" 

The  baron  shook  his  fists  angrily  at  the  river,  and 
Jacob  Welse's  thick  brows  seemed  to  draw  down  in 
order  to  hide  the  grim  smile  in  his  eyes. 

"  Ha !  ha !  I  laugh !  I  snap  my  fingers !  Seel  I 
defy!" 

As  the  challenge  left  his  lips,  Baron  Courbertin 
stepped  upon  a  cake  which  rubbed  lightly  past  at  his 
feet.  So  unexpected  was  it,  that  when  Jacob  Welse 
reached  after  him  he  was  gone. 

The  ice  was  picking  up  in  momentum,  and  the  hum 
growing  louder  and  more  threatening.  Balancing 
gracefully,  like  a  circus-rider,  the  Frenchman  whirled 
away  along  the  rim  of  the  bank.  Fifty  precarious  feet 
he  rode,  his  mount  becoming  more  unstable  every 

245 


A    DAUGHTER    OF   THE    SNOWS 

instant,  and  he  leaped  neatly  to  the  shore.  He  came 
back  laughing,  and  received  for  his  pains  two  or  three 
of  the  choicest  phrases  Jacob  Welse  could  select  from 
the  essentially  masculine  portion  of  his  vocabulary. 

"And  for  why?"  Courbertin  demanded,  stung  to 
the  quick. 

"  For  why  ?"  Jacob  Welse  mimicked  wrathf ully, 
pointing  into  the  sleek  stream  sliding  by. 

A  great  cake  had  driven  its  nose  into  the  bed  of  the 
river  thirty  feet  below  and  was  struggling  to  up-end. 
All  the  frigid  flood  behind  crinkled  and  bent  back  like 
so  much  paper.  Then  the  stalled  cake  turned  com 
pletely  over  and  thrust  its  muddy  nose  skyward.  But 
the  squeeze  caught  it,  while  cake  mounted  cake  at  its 
back,  and  its  fifty  feet  of  muck  and  gouge  were  hurled 
into  the  air.  It  crashed  upon  the  moving  mass  be 
neath,  and  flying  fragments  landed  at  the  feet  of  those 
that  watched.  Caught  broadside  in  a  chaos  of  press 
ures,  it  crumbled  into  scattered  pieces  and  disappeared. 

"  God !"  The  baron  spoke  the  word  reverently  and 
with  awe. 

Frona  caught  his  hand  on  the  one  side  and  her 
father's  on  the  other.  The  ice  was  now  leaping  past 
in  feverish  haste.  Somewhere  below  a  heavy  cake 
butted  into  the  bank,  and  the  ground  swayed  under 
their  feet.  Another  followed  it,  nearer  the  surface, 
and  as  they  sprang  back,  upreared  mightily,  and,  with 
a  ton  or  so  of  soil  on  its  broad  back,  bowled  insolently 
onward.  And  yet  another,  reaching  inshore  like  a 
huge  hand,  ripped  three  careless  pines  out  by  the  roots 
and  bore  them  away. 

Day  had  broken,  and  the  driving  white  gorged  the 
jYukon  from  shore  to  shore.  What  of  the  pressure 

246 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE    SNOWS 

of  pent  water  behind,  the  speed  of  the  flood  had  be 
come  dizzying.  Down  all  its  length  the  bank  was 
being  gashed  and  gouged,  and  the  island  was  jarring 
and  shaking  to  its  foundations. 

"  Oh,  great !  Great !"  Frona  sprang  up  and  down 
between  the  men.  "  Where  is  your  fake,  baron  ?" 

"Ah!"  He  shook  his  head.  "Ah!  I  was  wrong. 
I  am  miserable.  But  the  magnificence !  Look !" 

He  pointed  down  to  the  bunch  of  islands  which  ob 
structed  the  bend.  There  the  mile-wide  stream  divided 
and  subdivided  again, — which  was  well  for  water,  but 
not  so  well  for  packed  ice.  The  islands  drove  their 
wedged  heads  into  the  frozen  flood  and  tossed  the 
cakes  high  into  the  air.  But  cake  pressed  upon  cake 
and  shelved  out  of  the  water,  out  and  up,  sliding  and 
grinding  and  climbing,  and  still  more  cakes  from  be 
hind,  till  hillocks  and  mountains  of  ice  upreared  and 
crashed  among  the  trees. 

"  A  likely  place  for  a  jam,"  Jacob  Welse  said.  "  Get 
the  glasses,  Frona."  He  gazed  through  them  long  and 
steadily.  "  It's  growing,  spreading  out.  A  cake  at  the 
right  time  and  the  right  place  .  .  .  ." 

"  But  the  river  is  falling !"  Frona  cried. 

The  ice  had  dropped  six  feet  below  the  top  of  the 
bank,  and  the  Baron  Courbertin  marked  it  with  a  stick. 

"  Our  man's  still  there,  but  he  doesn't  move." 

It  was  clear  day,  and  the  sun  was  breaking  forth 
in  the  north-east.  They  took  turn  about  with  the 
glasses  in  gazing  across  the  river. 

"  Look !  Is  it  not  marvellous  ?"  Courbertin  pointed 
to  the  mark  he  had  made.  The  water  had  dropped 
another  foot.  "Ah!  Too  bad!  too  bad!  The  jam; 
there  will  be  none!" 

247 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE   SNOWS 

Jacob  Welse  regarded  him  gravely. 

"Ah!    There  will  be?"  he  asked,  picking  up  hope. 

Frona  looked  inquiringly  at  her  father. 

"  Jams  are  not  always  nice/'  he  said,  with  a  short 
laugh.  "  It  all  depends  where  they  take  place  and 
where  you  happen  to  be." 

"  But  the  river !  Look !  It  falls ;  I  can  see  it  before 
my  eyes." 

"  It  is  not  too  late."  He  swept  the  island-studded 
bend  and  saw  the  ice-mountains  larger  and  reaching 
out  one  to  the  other.  "  Go  into  the  tent,  Courbertin, 
and  put  on  the  pair  of  moccasins  you'll  find  by  the 
stove.  Go  on.  You  won't  miss  anything.  And  you, 
Frona,  start  the  fire  and  get  the  coffee  under  way." 

Half  an  hour  after,  though  the  river  had  fallen 
twenty  feet,  they  found  the  ice  still  pounding  along. 

"  Now  the  fun  begins.  Here,  take  a  squint,  you 
hot-headed  Gaul.  The  left-hand  channel,  man.  Now 
she  takes  it !" 

Courbertin  saw  the  left-hand  channel  close,  and  then 
a  great  white  barrier  heave  up  and  travel  from  island 
to  island.  The  ice  before  them  slowed  down  and  came 
to  rest.  Then  followed  the  instant  rise  of  the  river. 
Up  it  came  in  a  swift  rush,  as  though  nothing  short 
of  the  sky  could  stop  it.  As  when  they  were  first 
awakened,  the  cakes  rubbed  and  slid  inshore  over  the 
crest  of  the  bank,  the  muddy  water  creeping  in  ad 
vance  and  marking  the  way. 

"  Mon  Dieu !    But  this  is  not  nice !" 

"  But  magnificent,  baron,"  Frona  teased.  "  In  the 
meanwhile  you  are  getting  your  feet  wet." 

He  retreated  out  of  the  water,  and  in  time,  for  a 
small  avalanche  of  cakes  rattled  down  upon  the  place 

248 


A    DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

he  had  just  left.  The  rising  water  had  forced  the  ice 
up  till  it  stood  breast-high  above  the  island  like  a 
wall. 

"  But  it  will  go  down  soon  when  the  jam  breaks. 
See,  even  now  it  comes  up  not  so  swift.  It  has 
broken." 

Frona  was  watching  the  barrier.  "  No,  it  hasn't," 
she  denied. 

"  But  the  water  no  longer  rises  like  a  race-horse." 

"  Nor  does  it  stop  rising." 

He  was  puzzled  for  the  nonce.  Then  his  face  bright 
ened.  "  Ah !  I  have  it !  Above,  somewhere,  there  is 
another  jam.  Most  excellent,  is  it  not?" 

She  caught  his  excited  hand  in  hers  and  detained 
him.  "  But,  listen.  Suppose  the  upper  jam  breaks 
and  the  lower  jam  holds?" 

He  looked  at  her  steadily  till  he  grasped  the  full 
import.  His  face  flushed,  and  with  a  quick  intake  of 
the  breath  he  straightened  up  and  threw  back  his  head. 
He  made  a  sweeping  gesture  as  though  to  include  the 
island.  '  Then  you,  and  I,  the  tent,  the  boats,  cabins, 
trees,  everything,  and  La  Bijou!  Pouf!  and  all  are 
gone,  to  the  devil !" 

Frona  shook  her  head.    "  It  is  too  bad." 

"  Bad  ?     Pardon.     Magnificent !" 

"  No,  no,  baron ;  not  that.  But  that  you  are  not 
an  Anglo-Saxon.  The  race  could  well  be  proud  of 
you." 

"And  you,  Frona,  would  you  not  glorify  the 
French !" 

"  At  it  again,  eh  ?  Throwing  bouquets  at  your 
selves."  Del  Bishop  grinned  at  them,  and  made  to 
depart  as  quickly  as  he  had  come.  "  But  twist  your- 

249 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

selves.  Some  sick  men  in  a  cabin  down  here.  Got  to 
get  'em  out.  You're  needed.  And  don't  be  all  day 
about  it,"  he  shouted  over  his  shoulder  as  he  disap 
peared  among  the  trees. 

The  river  was  still  rising,  though  more  slowly,  and 
as  soon  as  they  left  the  high  ground  they  were  splash 
ing  along  ankle-deep  in  the  water.  Winding  in  and 
out  among  the  trees,  they  came  upon  a  boat  which  had 
been  hauled  out  the  previous  fall.  And  three  checha- 
quos,  who  had  managed  to  get  into  the  country  thus 
far  over  the  ice,  had  piled  themselves  into  it,  also  their 
tent,  sleds,  and  dogs.  But  the  boat  was  perilously  near 
the  ice-gorge,  which  growled  and  wrestled  and  over 
topped  it  a  bare  dozen  feet  away. 

"  Come !  Get  out  of  this,  you  fools !"  Jacob  Welse 
shouted  as  he  went  past. 

Del  Bishop  had  told  them  to  "  get  the  hell  out  of 
there"  when  he  ran  by,  and  they  could  not  understand. 
One  of  them  turned  up  an  unheeding,  terrified  face. 
Another  lay  prone  and  listless  across  the  thwarts  as 
though  bereft  of  strength;  while  the  third,  with  the 
face  of  a  clerk,  rocked  back  and  forth  and  moaned 
monotonously,  "  My  God !  My  God !" 

The  baron  stopped  long  enough  to  shake  him. 
"  Damn !"  he  cried.  "  Your  legs,  man ! — not  God,  but 
your  legs !  Ah !  ah ! — hump  yourself !  Yes,  hump  ! 
Get  a  move  on !  Twist !  Get  back  from  the  bank ! 
The  woods,  the  trees,  anywhere !" 

He  tried  to  drag  him  out,  but  the  man  struck  at  him 
savagely  and  held  back. 

"  How  one  collects  the  vernacular,"  he  confided 
proudly  to  Frona  as  they  hurried  on.  "  Twist !  It  is 
a  strong  word,  and  suitable." 

250 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

11  You  should  travel  with  Del,"  she  laughed.  "  He'd 
increase  your  stock  in  no  time." 

"  You  don't  say  so." 

"  Yes,  but  I  do." 

"  Ah !  Your  idioms.  I  shall  never  learn."  And  he 
shook  his  head  despairingly  with  both  his  hands. 

They  carne  out  in  a  clearing,  where  a  cabin  stood 
close  to  the  river.  On  its  flat  earth-roof  two  sick  men, 
swathed  in  blankets,  were  lying,  while  Bishop,  Corliss, 
and  Jacob  Welse  were  splashing  about  inside  the  cabin 
after  the  clothes-bags  and  general  outfit.  The  mean 
depth  of  the  flood  was  a  couple  of  feet,  but  the  floor  of 
the  cabin  had  been  dug  out  'for  purposes  of  warmth, 
and  there  the  water  was  to  the  waist. 

"  Keep  the  tobacco  dry,"  one  of  the  sick  men  said 
feebly  from  the  roof. 

"  Tobacco,  hell !"  his  companion  advised.  "  Look 
out  for  the  flour.  And  the  sugar,"  he  added,  as  an 
afterthought. 

"  That's  'cause  Bill  he  don't  smoke,  miss,"  the  first 
man  explained.  "  But  keep  an  eye  on  it,  won't  you  ?" 
he  pleaded. 

"  Here.  Now  shut  up."  Del  tossed  the  canister  be 
side  him,  and  the  man  clutched  it  as  though  it  were  a 
sack  of  nuggets. 

"  Can  I  be  of  any  use  ?"  she  asked,  looking  up  at 
them. 

"  Nope.  Scurvy.  Nothing'll  do  'em  any  good  but 
God's  country  and  raw  potatoes."  The  pocket-miner 
regarded  her  for  a  moment.  "  What  are  you  doing 
here,  anyway?  Go  on  back  to  high  ground." 

But  with  a  groan  and  a  crash,  the  ice-wall  bulged 
in,  A  fifty-ton  cake  ended  over,  splashing  them  with 

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A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

muddy  water,  and  settled  down  before  the  door.  A 
smaller  cake  drove  against  the  out- jutting  corner-logs 
and  the  cabin  reeled.  Courbertin  and  Jacob  Welse 
were  inside. 

"  After  you,"  Frona  heard  the  baron,  and  then  her 
father's  short  amused  laugh;  and  the  gallant  French 
man  came  out  last,  squeezing  his  way  between  the 
cake  and  the  logs. 

"  Say,  Bill,  if  that  there  lower  jam  holds,  we're 
goners,"  the  man  with  the  canister  called  to  his  part 
ner. 

"  Ay,  that  it  will,"  came  the  answer.  "  Below 
Nulato  I  saw  Bixbie  Island  swept  clean  as  my  old 
mother's  kitchen  floor." 

The  men  came  hastily  together  about  Frona. 

"  This  won't  do.  We've  got  to  carry  them  over  to 
yourv  shack,  Corliss."  As  he  spoke,  Jacob  Welse  clam 
bered  nimbly  up  the  cabin  and  gazed  down  at  the  big 
barrier.  "Where's  McPherson?"  he  asked. 

"  Petrified  astride  the  ridge-pole  this  last  hour." 

Jacob  Welse  waved  his  arm.  "  It's  breaking !  There 
she  goes !" 

"  No  kitchen  floor  this  time,  Bill,  with  my  respects 
to  your  old  woman,"  called  he  of  the  tobacco. 

"  Ay/'  answered  the  imperturbable  Bill. 

The  whole  river  seemed  to  pick  itself  up  and  start 
down  the  stream.  With  the  increasing  motion  the  ice- 
wall  broke  in  a  hundred  places,  and  from  up  and  down 
the  shore  came  the  rending  and  crashing  of  uprooted 
trees. 

Corliss  and  Bishop  laid  hold  of  Bill  and  started  off 
to  McPherson's,  and  Jacob  Welse  and  the  baron  were 
just  sliding  his  mate  over  the  eaves,  when  a  huge 

252 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

block  of  ice  rammed  in  and  smote  the  cabin  squarely. 
Frona  saw  it,  and  cried  a  warning,  but  the  tiered  logs 
were  overthrown  like  a  house  of  cards.  She  saw 
Courbertin  and  the  sick  man  hurled  clear  of  the  wreck 
age,  and  her  father  go  down  with  it.  She  sprang  to 
the  spot,  but  he  did  not  rise.  She  pulled  at  him  to  get 
his  mouth  above  water,  but  at  full  stretch  his  head 
barely  showed.  Then  she  let  go  and  felt  about  with 
her  hands  till  she  found  his  right  arm  jammed  be 
tween  the  logs.  These  she  could  not  move,  but  she 
thrust  between  them  one  of  the  roof-poles  which  had 
underlaid  the  dirt  and  moss.  It  was  a  rude  handspike 
and  hardly  equal  to  the  work,  for  when  she  threw  her 
weight  upon  the  free  end  it  bent  and  crackled.  Heed 
ful  of  the  warning,  she  came  in  a  couple  of  feet  and 
swung  upon  it  tentatively  and  carefully  till  something 
gave  and  Jacob  Welse  shoved  his  muddy  face  into 
the  air. 

He  drew  half  a  dozen  great  breaths,  and  burst  out, 
"  But  that  tastes  good !"  And  then,  throwing  a  quick 
glance  about  him,  "  Frona,  Del  Bishop  is  a  most  vera 
cious  man." 

"  Why  ?"    she  asked,  perplexedly. 

"  Because  he  said  you'd  do,  you  know." 

He  kissed  her,  and  they  both  spat  the  mud  from 
their  lips,  laughing.  Courbertin  floundered  round  a 
corner  of  the  wreckage. 

"  Never  was  there  such  a  man !"  he  cried,  gleefully. 
"  He  is  mad,  crazy !  There  is  no  appeasement.  His 
skull  is  cracked  by  the  fall,  and  his  tobacco  is  gone. 
It  is  chiefly  the  tobacco  which  is  lamentable." 

But  his  skull  was  not  cracked,  for  it  was  merely  a 
slit  of  the  scalp  of  five  inches  or  so. 

253 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE    SNOWS 

"You'll  have  to  wait  till  the  others  come  back.  I 
can't  carry."  Jacob  Welse  pointed  to  his  right  arm, 
which  hung  dead.  "  Only  wrenched,"  he  explained. 
"  No  bones  broken." 

The  baron  struck  an  extravagant  attitude  and 
pointed  down  at  Frona's  foot.  "  Ah !  the  water,  it  is 
gone,  and  there,  a  jewel  of  the  flood,  a  pearl  of  price!" 

Her  well-worn  moccasins  had  gone  rotten  from  the 
soaking,  and  a  little  white  toe  peeped  out  at  the  world 
of  slime. 

"  Then  I  am  indeed  wealthy,  baron ;  for  I  have  nine 
others." 

"And  who  shall  deny?  who  shall  deny?"  he  cried, 
fervently. 

"  What  a  ridiculous,  foolish,  lovable  fellow  it  is !" 

"  I  kiss  your  hand."  And  he  knelt  gallantly  in  the 
muck. 

She  jerked  hechand  away,  and,  burying  it  with  its 
mate  in  his  curly  mop,  shook  his  head  back  and  forth. 
"What  shall  I  do  with  him,  father?" 

Jacob  Welse  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  laughed; 
and  she  turned  Courbertin's  face  up  and  kissed  him 
on  the  lips.  And  Jacob  Welse  knew  that  his  was  the 
larger  share  in  that  manifest  joy. 

The  river,  fallen  to  its  winter  level,  was  pounding 
its  ice-glut  steadily  along.  But  in  falling  it  had 
rimmed  the  shore  with  a  twenty-foot  wall  of  stranded 
floes.  The  great  blocks  were  spilled  inland  among 
the  thrown  and  standing  trees  and  the  slime-coated 
flowers  and  grasses  like  the  titanic  vomit  of  some 
Northland  monster.  The  sun  was  not  idle,  and  the 
steaming  thaw  washed  the  mud  and  foulness  from 

254 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

the  bergs  till  they  blazed  like  heaped  diamonds  in  the 
brightness,  or  shimmered  opalescent-blue.  Yet  they 
were  reared  hazardously  one  on  another,  and  ever  and 
anon  flashing  towers  and  rainbow  minarets  crumbled 
thunderously  into  the  flood.  By  one  of  the  gaps  so 
made  lay  La  Bijou,  and  about  it,  saving  chechaquos 
and  sick  men,  were  grouped  the  denizens  of  Split-up. 

"  Na,  na,  lad ;  twa  men'll  be  a  plenty."  Tommy 
McPherson  sought  about  him  with  his  eyes  for  cor- 
roboration.  "  Gin  ye  gat  three  i'  the  canoe  'twill  be 
ower  comfortable." 

"  It  must  be  a  dash  or  nothing,"  Corliss  spoke 
up.  "  We  need  three  men,  Tommy,  and  you  know 
it." 

"  Na,  na ;  twa's  a  plenty,  I'm  tellin'  ye." 

"  But  I'm  afraid  we'll  have  to  do  with  two." 

The  Scotch-Canadian  evinced  his  satisfaction  openly. 
"  Mair'd  be  a  bother ;  an'  I  doot  not  ye'll  mak'  it  all 
richt,  lad." 

"  And  you'll  make  one  of  those  two,  Tommy,"  Cor 
liss  went  on,  inexorably. 

"  Na ;  there's  ithers  a  plenty  wi'oot  coontin*  me." 

"  No,  there's  not.  Courbertin  doesn't  know  the  first 
thing.  St.  Vincent  evidently  cannot  cross  the  slough. 
Mr.  Welse's  arm  puts  him  out  of  it.  So  it's  only  you 
and  I,  Tommy." 

"  I'll  not  be  inqueesitive,  but  yon  son  of  Anak's  a 
likely  mon.  He  maun  pit  oop  a  guid  stroke."  While 
the  Scot  did  not  lose  much  love  for  the  truculent 
pocket-miner,  he  was  well  aware  of  his  grit,  and 
seized  the  chance  to  save  himself  by  shoving  the  other 
into  the  breach. 

Del  Bishop  stepped  into  the  centre  of  the  little 
255 


A   DAUGHTER   OF  THE   SNOWS 

circle,  paused,  and  looked  every  man  in  the  eyes  before 
he  spoke. 

"  Is  there  a  man  here'll  say  I'm  a  coward  ?"  he  de 
manded  without  preface.  Again  he  looked  each  one 
in  the  eyes.  "  Or  is  there  a  man  who'll  even  hint  that 
I  ever  did  a  curlike  act?"  And  yet  again  he  searched 
the  circle.  "  Well  and  good.  I  hate  the  water,  but 
I've  never  been  afraid  of  it.  I  don't  know  how  to 
swim,  yet  I've  been  over  the  side  more  times  than  it's 
good  to  remember.  I  can't  pull  an  oar  without  batting 
my  back  on  the  bottom  of  the  boat.  As  for  steering — 
well,  authorities  say  there's  thirty-two  points  to  the 
compass,  but  there's  at  least  thirty  more  when  I  get 
started.  And  as  sure  as  God  made  little  apples,  I  don't 
know  my  elbow  from  my  knee  about  a  paddle.  I've 
capsized  damn  near  every  canoe  I  ever  set  foot  in. 
I've  gone  right  through  the  bottom  of  two.  I've 
turned  turtle  in  the  Canyon  and  been  pulled  out  below 
the  White  Horse.  I  can  only  keep  stroke  with  one 
man,  and  that  man's  yours  truly.  But,  gentlemen,  if 
the  call  comes,  I'll  take  my  place  in  La  Bijou  and  take 
her  to  hell  if  she  don't  turn  over  on  the  way." 

Baron  Courbertin  threw  his  arms  about  him,  crying, 
"  As  sure  as  God  made  little  apples,  thou  art  a  man !" 

Tommy's  face  was  white,  and  he  sought  refuge  in 
speech  from  the  silence  which  settled  down.  "  I'll  no 
deny  I  lift  a  guid  paddle,  nor  that  my  wind  is  fair; 
but  gin  ye  gang  a  tithe  the  way  the  next  jam'll  be  on 
us.  For  my  pairt  I  conseeder  it  ay  rash.  Bide  a  wee 
till  the  river's  clear,  say  I." 

"  It's  no  go,  Tommy,"  Jacob  Welse  admonished. 
"  You  can't  cash  excuses  here." 

"  But,  mon !  It  doesna  need  discreemeenation " 

256 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

"  That'll  do !"  from  Corliss.    "  You're  coming." 

"  I'll  naething  o'  the  sort.    I'll " 

"  Shut  up !"  Del  had  come  into  the  world  with 
lungs  of  leather  and  larynx  of  brass,  and  when  he 
thus  jerked  out  the  stops  the  Scotsman  quailed  and 
shrank  down. 

"  Oyez !  Oyez !"  In  contrast  to  Del's  siren  tones, 
Frona's  were  purest  silver  as  they  rippled  down-island 
through  the  trees.  "  Oyez !  Oyez !  Open  water ! 
Open  water!  And  wait  a  minute.  I'll  be  with  you." 

Three  miles  up-stream,  where  the  Yukon  curved 
grandly  in  from  the  west,  a  bit  of  water  appeared.  It 
seemed  too  marvellous  for  belief,  after  the  granite 
winter;  but  McPherson,  untouched  of  imagination, 
began  a  crafty  retreat. 

"  Bide  a  wee,  bide  a  wee,"  he  protested,  when  col 
lared  by  the  pocket-miner.  "  A've  forgot  my  pipe." 

"  Then  you'll  bide  with  us,  Tommy,"  Del  sneered. 
"  And  I'd  let  you  have  a  draw  of  mine  if  your  own 
wasn't  sticking  out  of  your  pocket." 

"  Twas  the  baccy  I'd  in  mind." 

"  Then  dig  into  this."  He  shoved  his  pouch  into 
McPher son's  shaking  hands.  "  You'd  better  shed  your 
coat.  Here!  I'll  help  you.  And  private,  Tommy,  if 
you  don't  act  the  man,  I  won't  do  a  thing  to  you. 
Sure." 

Corliss  had  stripped  his  heavy  flannel  shirt  for  free 
dom  ;  and  it  was  plain,  when  Frona  joined  them,  that 
she  also  had  been  shedding.  Jacket  and  skirt  were 
gone,  and  her  underskirt  of  dark  cloth  ceased  midway 
below  the  knee. 

"  You'll  do,"  Del  commended. 

Jacob  Welse  looked  at  her  anxiously,  and  went  over 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

to  where  she  was  testing  the  grips  of  the  several  pad 
dles.  "  You're  not ?"  he  began. 

She  nodded. 

"  You're  a  guid  girl,"  McPherson  broke  in.  "  Now, 
aVe  a  wumman  to  home,  to  say  naething  o'  three 
bairns " 

"All  ready!"  Corliss  lifted  the  bow  of  La  Bijou 
and  looked  back. 

The  turbid  water  lashed  by  on  the  heels  of  the  ice- 
run.  Courbertin  took  the  stern  in  the  steep  descent, 
and  Del  marshalled  Tommy's  reluctant  rear.  A  flat 
floe,  dipping  into  the  water  at  a  slight  incline,  served 
as  the  embarking-stage. 

"  Into  the  bow  with  you,  Tommy !" 

The  Scotsman  groaned,  felt  Bishop  breathe  heavily 
at  his  back,  and  obeyed ;  Frona  meeting  his  weight  by 
slipping  into  the  stern. 

"  I  can  steer,"  she  assured  Corliss,  who  for  the  first 
time  was  aware  that  she  was  coming. 

He  glanced  up  to  Jacob  Welse,  as  though  for  con 
sent,  and  received  it. 

"  Hit  'er  up !  Hit  'er  up !"  Del  urged  impatiently. 
"You're  burnin'  daylight!" 


CHAPTER  XXV 


LA  BIJOU  was  a  perfect  expression  of  all  that  was 
dainty  and  delicate  in  the  boat-builder's  soul.  Light 
as  an  egg-shell,  and  as  fragile,  her  three-eighths-inch 
skin  offered  no  protection  from  a  driving  chunk  of 
ice  as  small  as  a  man's  head.  Nor,  though  the 
water  was  open,  did  she  find  a  clear  way,  for  the 
river  was  full  of  scattered  floes  which  had  crumbled 
down  from  the  rim-ice.  And  here,  at  once,  through 
skilful  handling,  Corliss  took  to  himself  confidence  in 
Frona. 

It  was  a  great  picture:  the  river  rushing  blackly 
between  its  crystalline  walls ;  beyond,  the  green  woods 
stretching  upward  to  touch  the  cloud-flecked  summer 
sky;  and  over  all,  like  a  furnace  blast,  the  hot  sun 
beating  down.  A  great  picture,  but  somehow  Corliss's 
mind  turned  to  his  mother  and  her  perennial  tea,  the 
soft  carpets,  the  prim  New  England  maid-servants,  the 
canaries  singing  in  the  wide  windows,  and  he  won 
dered  if  she  could  understand.  And  when  he  thought 
of  the  woman  behind  him,  and  felt  the  dip  and  lift, 
dip  and  lift,  of  her  paddle,  his  mother's  women  came 
back  to  him,  one  by  one,  and  passed  in  long  review, — 
pale,  glimmering  ghosts,  he  thought,  cajicaturjes  of  the 
stock  which  had  replenished  the  earth,  and  which 
would  continue  to  replenish  the  earth. 

La  Bijou  skirted  a  pivoting  floe,  darted  into  a  nip- 
259 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

ping  channel,  and  shot  out  into  the  open  with  the 
walls  grinding  together  behind.  Tommy  groaned. 

"  Well  done !"  Corliss  encouraged. 

"  The  fule  wumman !"  came  the  backward  snarl. 
"  Why  couldna  she  bide  a  bit?" 

Frona  caught  his  words  and  flung  a  laugh  defiantly. 
Vance  darted  a  glance  over  his  shoulder  to  her,  and 
her  smile  was  witchery.  Her  cap,  perched  precari 
ously,  was  sliding  off,  while  her  flying  hair,  aglint  in 
the  sunshine,  framed  her  face  as  he  had  seen  it  framed 
on  the  Dyea  Trail. 

"  How  I  should  like  to  sing,  if  it  weren't  for  saving 
one's  breath.  Say  the  '  Song  of  the  Sword/  or  the 
'  Anchor  CEanty.' " 

"Or     the     'First     Chanty/"     Corliss     answered. 

'  Mine  was  the  woman,  darkling  I  found  her/  "  he 
hummed,  signfficantly. 

She  flashed  her  paddle  into  the  water  on  the  oppo 
site  side  in  order  to  go  wide  of  a  jagged  cake,  and 
seemed  not  to  hear.  "  I  could  go  on  this  way  for 
ever." 

"  And  I,"  Corliss  affirmed,  warmly. 

But  she  refused  to  take  notice,  saying,  instead, 
"  Vance,  do  you  know  I'm  glad  we're  friends  ?" 

"  No  fault  of  mine  we're  not  more." 

"You're  losing  your  stroke,  sir,"  she  reprimanded; 
and  he  bent  silently  to  the  work! 

La  Bijou  was  driving  against  the  current  at  an  angle 
of  forty-five  degrees,  and  her  resultant  course  was  a 
line  at  right  angles  to  the  river.  Thus,  she  would  tap 
the  western  bank  directly  opposite  the  starting-point, 
where  she  could  work  up-stream  in  the  slacker  flood. 
But  a  mile  of  indented  shore,  and  then  a  hundred  yards 

260 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

of  bluffs  rising  precipitously  from  out  a  stiff  current, 
would  still  lie  between  them  and  the  man  to  be  rescued. 

"  Now  let  -us  ease  up,"  Corliss  advised,  as  they 
slipped  into  an  eddy  and  drifted  with  the  back-tide 
under  the  great  wall  of  rim-ice. 

"  Who  would  think  it  mid-May  ?"  She  glanced  up 
at  the  carelessly  poised  cakes.  "  Does  it  seem  real  to 
you,  Vance?" 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  Nor  to  me.  I  know  that  I,  Frona,  in  the  flesh, 
am  here,  in  a  Peterborough,  paddling  for  dear  life  with 
two  men;  year  of  our  Lord  eighteen  hundred  and 
ninety-eight,  Alaska,  Yukon  River ;  this  is  water,  that 
is  ice ;  my  arms  are  tired,  my  heart  up  a  few  beats, 
and  I  am  sweating, — and  yet  it  seems  all  a  dream. 
Just  think!  A  year  ago  I  was  in  Paris!"  She  drew 
a  deep  breath  and  looked  out  over  the  water  to  the 
further  shore,  where  Jacob  Welse's  tent,  like  a  snowy 
handkerchief,  sprawled  against  the  deep  green  of  the 
forest.  "  I  do  not  believe  there  is  such  a  place,"  she 
added.  "  There  is  no  Paris." 

"  And  I  was  in  London  a  twelvemonth  past,"  Corliss 
meditated.  "  But  I  have  undergone  a  new  incarnation. 
London?  There  is  no  London  now.  It  is  impossible. 
How  could  there  be  so  many  people  in  the  world? 
This  is  the  world,  and  we  know  of  fact  that  there  are 
very  few  people  in  it,  else  there  could  not  be  so  much 
ice  and  sea  and  sky.  Tommy,  here,  I  know,  thinks 
fondly  of  a  place  he  calls  Toronto.  He  mistakes.  It 
exists  only  in  his  mind,— --a  memory  of  a  former  life  he 
knew.  Of  course,  he  does  not  think  so.  That  is  but 
natural;  for  he  is  no  philosopher,  nor  does  he 

bother- " 

261 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

"  Wheest,  will  ye !"  Tommy  fiercely  whispered. 
"  Your  gabble'll  bring  it  doon  aboot  oor  heads." 

Life  is  brief  in  the  Northland,  and  fulfilment  ever 
clutters  the  heels  of  prophecy.  A  premonitory  tremor 
sighed  down  the  air,  and  the  rainbow  wall  swayed 
above  them.  The  three  paddles  gripped  the  water 
with  common  accord.  La  Bijou  leaped  out  from 
under.  Broadside  after  broadside  flared  and  crashed, 
and  a  thousand  frigid  tons  thundered  down  behind 
them.  The  displaced  water  surged  outward  in  a 
foamy,  upstanding  circle,  and  La  Bijou,  striving 
wildly  to  rise,  ducked  through  the  stiff  overhang  of 
the  crest  and  wallowed,  half -full,  in  the  trough. 

"  Dinna  I  tell  ye,  ye  gabbling  fules !" 

"  Sit  still,  and  bail !"  Corliss  checked  him  sharply. 
"  Or  you'll  not  have  the  comfort  of  telling  us  any 
thing." 

He  shook  his  head  at  Frona,  and  she  winked 
back;  then  they  both  chuckled,  much  like  children 
over  an  escapade  which  looks  disastrous  but  turns 
out  well. 

Creeping  timidly  under  the  shadow  of  the  impending 
avalanches,  La  Bijou  slipped  noiselessly  up  the  last 
eddy.  A  corner  of  the  bluff  rose  savagely  from  the 
river — a  monstrous  mass  of  naked  rock,  scarred  and 
battered  of  the  centuries;  hating  the  river  that 
gnawed  it  ever;  hating  the  rain  that  graved  its  grim 
face  with  unsightly  seams;  hating  the  sun  that  re 
fused  to  mate  with  it,  whereof  green  life  might  come 
forth  and  hide  its  hideousness.  The  whole  force  of 
the  river  hurled  in  against  it,  waged  furious  war  along 
its  battlements,  and  caromed  off  into  mid-stream  again. 
Down  all  its  length  the  stiff  waves  stood  in  serried 

262 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE    SNOWS 

rows,  and  its  crevices  and  water-worn  caverns  were 
a-bellow  with  unseen  strife. 

"  Now !    Bend  to  it !    Your  best !" 

It  was  the  last  order  Corliss  could  give,  for  in  the 
din  they  were  about  to  enter  a  man's  voice  were  like  a 
cricket's  chirp  amid  the  growling  of  an  earthquake. 
La  Bijou  sprang  forward,  cleared  the  eddy  with  a 
bound,  and  plunged  into  the  thick.  Dip  and  lift,  dip 
and  lift,  the  paddles  worked  with  rhythmic  strength. 
The  water  rippled  and  tore,  and  pulled  all  ways  at 
once;  and  the  fragile  shell,  unable  to  go  all  ways  at 
once,  shook  and  quivered  with  the  shock  of  resistance. 
It  veered  nervously  to  the  right  and  left,  but  Frona 
held  it  with  a  hand  of  steel.  A  yard  away  a  fissure  in 
the  rock  grinned  at  them.  La  Bijou  leaped  and  shot 
ahead,  and  the  water,  slipping  away  underneath,  kept 
her  always  in  one  place.  Now  they  surged  out  from 
the  fissure,  now  in ;  ahead  for  half  a  yard,  then  back 
again;  and  the  fissure  mocked  their  toil. 

Five  minutes,  each  of  which  sounded  a  separate 
eternity,  and  the  fissure  was  past.  Ten  minutes,  and 
it  was  a  hundred  feet  astern.  Dip  and  lift,  dip  and 
lift,  till  sky  and  earth  and  river  were  blotted  out,  and 
consciousness  dwindled  <:o  a  thin  line, — a  streak  of 
foam,  fringed  on  the  one  hand  with  sneering  rock,  on 
the  other  with  snarling  water.  That  thin  line  summed 
up  all.  Somewhere  below  was  the  beginning  of 
things ;  somewhere  above,  beyond  the  roar  and  traffic, 
was  the  end  of  things ;  and  for  that  end  they  strove. 

And  still  Frona  held  the  egg-shell  with  a  hand  of 
steel.  What  they  gained  they  held,  and  fought  for 
more,  inch  by  inch,  dip  and  lift;  and  all  would  have 
been  well  but  for  the  flutter  of  Tommy's  soul.  A 

263 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

cake  of  ice,  sucked  beneath  by  the  current,  rose  under 
his  paddle  with  a  flurry  of  foam,  turned  over  its 
toothed  edge,  and  was  dragged  back  into  the  depths. 
And  in  that  sight  he  saw  himself,  hair  streaming  up 
ward  and  drowned  hands  clutching  emptiness,  going 
feet  first,  down  and  down.  He  stared,  wide-eyed,  at 
the  portent,  and  his  poised  paddle  refused  to  strike. 
On  the  instant  the  fissure  grinned  in  their  faces,  and 
the  next  they  were  below  the  bluffs,  drifting  gently 
in  the  eddy. 

Frona  lay,  head  thrown  back,  sobbing  at  the  sun; 
amidships  Corliss  sprawled  panting;  and  forward, 
choking  and  gasping  and  nerveless,  the  Scotsman 
drooped  his  head  upon  his  knees.  La  Bijou  rubbed 
softly  against  the  rim-ice  and  came  to  rest.  The  rain 
bow-wall  hung  above  like  a  fairy  pile ;  the  sun,  flung 
backward  from  innumerable  facets,  clothed  it  in  jew 
elled  splendor.  Silvery  streams  tinkled  down  its  crys 
tal  slopes;  and  in  its  clear  depths  seemed  to  unfold, 
veil  on  veil,  the  secrets  of  life  and  death  and  mortal 
striving, — vistas  of  pale-shimmering  azure  opening 
like  dream-visions,  and  promising,  down  there  in  the 
great  cool  heart,  infinite  rest,  infinite  cessation  and 
rest. 

The  topmost  tower,  delicately  massive,  a  score  of 
feet  above  them,  swayed  to  and  fro,  gently,  like  the 
ripple  of  wheat  in  light  summer  airs.  But  Corliss 
gazed  at  it  unheeding.  Just  to  lie  there,  on  the  marge 
of  the  mystery,  just  to  lie  there  and  drink  the  air  in 
great  gulps,  and  do  nothing! — he  asked  no  more.  A 
dervish,  whirling  on  heel  till  all  things  blur,  may  grasp 
the  essence  of  the  universe  and  prove  the  Godhead 
indivisible;  and  so  a  man,  plying  a  paddle,  and  ply- 

264  " 


A    DAUGHTER    OF   THE    SNOWS 

ing  and  plying,  may  shake  off  his  limitations  and  rise 
above  time  and  space.  And  so  Corliss. 

But  gradually  his  blood  ceased  its  mad  pounding, 
and  the  air  was  no  longer  nectar-sweet,  and  a  sense  of 
things  real  and  pressing  came  back  to  him. 

"  We've  got  to  get  out  of  this,"  he  said.  His  voice 
sounded  like  a  man's  whose  throat  has  been  scorched 
by  many  and  long  potations.  It  frightened  him,  but 
he  limply  lifted  a  shaking  paddle  and  shoved  off. 

"  Yes ;  let  us  start,  by  all  means,"  Frona  said  in  a 
dim  voice,  which  seemed  to  come  to  him  from  a  far 
distance. 

Tommy  lifted  his  head  and  gazed  about.  "  A  doot 
we'll  juist  hae  to  gie  it  oop." 

"Bend  to  it!" 

"Ye'llnotry  it  anither?" 

"  Bend  to  it !"  Corliss  repeated. 

"  Till  your  heart  bursts,  Tommy,"  Frona  added. 

Once  again  they  fought  up  the  thin  line,  and  all  the 
world  vanished,  save  the  streak  of  foam,  and  the  snarl 
ing  water,  and  the  grinning  fissure.  But  they  passed 
it,  inch  by  inch,  and  the  broa-d  bend  welcomed  them 
from  above,  and  only  a  rocky  buttress  of  implacable 
hate,  around  whose  base  howled  the  tides  of  an  equal 
hate,  stood  between.  Then  La  Bijou  leaped  and 
throbbed  and  shook  again,  and  the  current  slid  out 
from  under,  and  they  remained  ever  in  one  place.  Dip 
and  lift,  dip  and  lift,  through  an  infinity  of  time  and 
torture  and  travail,  till  even  the  line  dimmed  and  faded 
and  the  struggle  lost  its  meaning.  Their  souls  became 
merged  in  the  rhythm  of  the  toil.  Ever  lifting,  ever 
falling,  they  seemed  to  have  become  great  pendulums 
of  time.  And  before  and  behind  glimmered  the  eter- 

265 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

nities,  and  between  the  eternities,  ever  lifting,  ever 
falling,  they  pulsed  in  vast  rhythmical  movement. 
They  were  no  longer  humans,  but  rhythms.  They 
surged  in  till  their  paddles  touched  the  bitter  rock, 
but  they  did  not  know;  surged  out,  where  chance 
piloted  them  unscathed  through  the  lashing  ice,  but 
they  did  not  see.  Nor  did  they  feel  the  shock  of  the 
smitten  waves,  nor  the  driving  spray  that  cooled  their 
faces.  .  .  . 

La  Bijou  veered  out  into  the  stream,  and  their 
paddles,  flashing  mechanically  in  the  sunshine,  held 
her  to  the  return  angle  across  the  river.  As  time  and 
matter  came  back  to  them,  and  Split-up  Island  dawned 
upon  their  eyes  like  the  foreshore  of  a  new  world, 
they  settled  down  to  the  long  easy  stroke  wherein 
breath  and  strength  may  be  recovered. 

"  A  third  attempt  would  have  been  useless,"  Corliss 
said,  in  a  dry,  cracked  whisper. 

And  Frona  answered,  "  Yes ;  our  hearts  would 
have  surely  broken." 

Life,  and  the  pleasant  camp-fire,  and  the  quiet  rest 
in  the  noonday  shade,  came  back  to  Tommy  as  the 
shore  drew  near,  and  more  than  all,  blessed  Toronto, 
its  houses  that  never  moved,  and  its  jostling  streets. 
Each  time  his  head  sank  forward  and  he  reached  out 
and  clutched  the  water  with  his  paddle,  the  streets 
enlarged,  as  though  gazing  through  a  telescope  and 
adjusting  to  a  nearer  focus.  And  each  time  the  pad 
dle  drove  clear  and  his  head  was  raised,  the  island 
bounded  forward.  His  head  sank,  and  the  streets 
were  of  the  size  of  life;  it  raised,  and  Jacob  Welse 
and  the  two  men  stood  on  the  bank  three  length's  away, 

"  Dinna  I  tell  ye !"  he  shouted  to  them,  triumphantly. 
266 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNCWS 

But  Frona  jerked  the  canoe  parallel  with  the  bank, 
and  he  found  himself  gazing  at  the  long  up-stream 
stretch.  He  arrested  a  stroke  midway,  and  his  paddle 
clattered  in  the  bottom. 

"  Pick  it  up !"  Corliss's  voice  was  sharp  and  relent 
less. 

"  I'll  do  naething  o'  the  kind."  He  turned  a  rebel 
lious  face  on  his  tormentor,  and  ground  his  teeth  in 
anger  and  disappointment. 

The  canoe  was  drifting  down  with  the  current,  and 
Frona  merely  held  it  in  place.  Corliss  crawled  for 
ward  on  his  knees. 

"  I  don't  want  to  hurt  you,  Tommy,"  he  said  in  a 
low,  tense  voice,  "  so  .  .  .  .  well,  just  pick  it  up, 
that's  a  good  fellow." 

"  I'll  no." 

'  Then  I  shall  kill  you,"  Corliss  went  on,  in  the 
same  calm,  passionless  way,  at  the  same  time  drawing 
his  hunting-knife  from  its  sheath. 

"And  if  I  dinna?"  the  Scotsman  queried  stoutly, 
though  cowering  away. 

Corliss  pressed  gently  with  the  knife.  The  point 
of  the  steel  entered  Tommy's  back  just  where  the 
heart  should  be,  passed  slowly  through  the  shirt,  and 
bit  into  the  skin.  Nor  did  it  stop  there ;  neither  did  it 
quicken,  but  just  as  slowly  held  on  its  way.  He  shrank 
back,  quivering. 

"There!  there!  man!  Pit  it  oop!"  he  shrieked. 
"  I  maun  gie  in !" 

Frona's  face  was  quite  pale,  but  her  eyes  were  hard, 
brilliantly  hard,  and  she  nodded  approval. 

"  We're  going  to  try  this  side,  and  shoot  across  from 
above,"  she  called  to  her  father.  "What?  I  can't 

267 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

hear.  Tommy?  Oh,  his  heart's  weak.  Nothing 
serious."  She  saluted  with  her  paddle.  "  We'll  be 
back  in  no  time,  father  mine.  In  no  time." 

Stewart  River  was  wide  open,  and  they  ascended  it 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  before  they  shot  its  mouth  and 
continued  up  the  Yukon.  But  when  they  were  well 
abreast  of  the  man  on  the  opposite  bank  a  new  obstacle 
faced  them.  A  mile  above,  a  wreck  of  an  island  clung 
desperately  to  the  river  bed.  Its  tail  dwindled  to  a 
sand-spit  which  bisected  the  river  as  far  down  as  the 
impassable  bluffs.  Further,  a  few  hundred  thousand 
tons  of  ice  had  grounded  upon  the  spit  and  upreared 
a  glittering  ridge. 

"We'll  have  to  portage,"  Corliss  said,  as  Frona 
turned  the  canoe  from  the  bank. 

La  Bijou  darted  across  the  narrower  channel  to  the 
sand-spit  and  slipped  up  a  little  ice  ravine,  where  the 
walls  were  less  precipitous.  They  landed  on  an  out- 
jutting  cake,  which,  without  support,  overhung  the 
water  for  sheer  thirty  feet.  How  far  its  other  end 
could  be  buried  in  the  mass  was  matter  for  conjec 
ture.  They  climbed  to  the  summit,  dragging  the 
canoe  after  them,  and  looked  out  over  the  dazzle. 
Floe  was  piled  on  floe  in  titanic  confusion.  Huge 
blocks  topped  and  overtopped  one  another,  only  to 
serve  as  pedestals  for  great  white  masses,  which  blazed 
and  scintillated  in  the  sun  like  monstrous  jewels. 

"  A  bonny  place  for  a  bit  walk,"  Tommy  sneered, 
"wi'  the  next  jam  fair  to  come  ony  time."  He  sat 
down  resolutely.  "  No,  thank  ye  kindly,  I'll  no  try  it." 

Frona  and  Corliss  clambered  on,  the  canoe  between 
them. 

"  The  Persians  lashed  their  slaves  into  battle/'"  she 
268 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE    SNOWS 

remarked,  looking  back.  "  I  never  understood  before. 
Hadn't  you  better  go  back  after  him?" 

Corliss  kicked  him  up,  whimpering,  and  forced  him 
to  go  on  in  advance.  The  canoe  was  an  affair  of  little 
weight,  but  its  bulk,  on  the  steep  rises  and  sharp  turns, 
taxed  their  strength.  The  sun  burned  down  upon 
them.  Its  white  glare  hurt  their  eyes,  the  sweat  oozed 
out  from  every  pore,  and  they  panted  for  breath. 

"  Oh,  Vance,  do  you  know  .   .   .   . " 

"  What  ?"  He  swept  the  perspiration  from  his  fore 
head  and  flung  it  from  him  with  a  quick  flirt  of  the 
hand. 

"  I  wish  I  had  eaten  more  breakfast." 

He  grunted  sympathetically.  They  had  reached  the 
midmost  ridge  and  could  see  the  open  river,  and  be 
yond,  quite  clearly,  the  man  and  his  signal  of  distress. 
Below,  pastoral  in  its  green  quiet,  lay  Split-up  Island. 
They  looked  up  to  the  broad  bend  of  the  Yukon, 
smiling  lazily,  as  though  it  were  not  capable  at  any 
moment  of  spewing  forth  a  flood  of  death.  At  their 
feet  the  ice  sloped  down  into  a  miniature  gorge,  across 
which  the  sun  cast  a  broad  shadow. 

"  Go  on,  Tommy,"  Frona  bade.  "  We're  half-way 
over,  and  there's  water  down  there." 

"It's  water  ye'd  be  thinkin'  on,  is  it?"  he  snarled, 
"  and  you  a-leadin'  a  buddie  to  his  death !" 

"  I  fear  you  have  done  some  great  sin,  Tommy," 
she  said,  with  a  reproving  shake  of  the  head,  "  or  else 
you  would  not  be  so  afraid  of  death."  She  sighed  and 
picked  up  her  end  of  the  canoe.  "  Well,  I  suppose  it 
is  natural.  You  do  not  know  how  to  die " 

"  No  more  do  I  want  to  die,"  he  broke  in  fiercely. 

"  But  there  come  times  for  all  men  to  die, — times 
269 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

when  to  die  is  the  only  thing  to  do.     Perhaps  this  is 
such  a  time." 

Tommy  slid  carefully  over  a  glistening  ledge  and 
dropped  his  height  to  a  broad  foothold.  "  It's  a'  vera 
guid,"  he  grinned  up ;  "  but  dinna  ye  think  aVe  suf- 
feecient  discreemeenation  to  judge  for  mysel'?  Why 
should  I  no  sing  my  ain  sang?" 

"  Because  you  do  not  know  how.  The  strong  have 
ever  pitched  the  key  for  such  as  you.  It  is  they  that 
have  taught  your  kind  when  and  how  to  die,  and  led 
you  to  die,  and  lashed  you  to  die." 

"  Ye  pit  it  fair,"  he  rejoined.  "  And  ye  do  it  weel. 
It  doesna  behoove  me  to  complain,  sic  a  michty  fine  job 
ye 're  makin'  on  it." 

"  You  are  doing  well,"  Corliss  chuckled,  as  Tommy 
dropped  out  of  sight  and  landed  into  the  bed  of  the 
gorge.  "  The  cantankerous  brute !  he'd  argue  on  the 
trail  to  Judgment." 

"  Where  did  you  learn  to  paddle  ?"  she  asked. 

"  College — exercise,"  he  answered,  shortly.  "  But 
isn't  that  fine?  Look!" 

The  melting  ice  had  formed  a  pool  in  the  bottom  of 
the  gorge.  Frona  stretched  out  full  length,  and  dipped 
her  hot  mouth  in  its  coolness.  And  lying  as  she  did, 
the  soles  of  her  dilapidated  moccasins,  or  rather  the" 
soles  of  her  feet  (for  moccasins  and  stockings  had 
gone  in  shreds),  were  turned  upward.  They  were 
very  white,  and  from  contact  with  the  ice  were  bruised 
and  cut.  Here  and  there  the  blood  oozed  out,  and 
from  one  of  the  toes  it  streamed  steadily. 

"  So  wee,  and  pretty,  and  saft-like,"  Tommy  gibed. 
"  One  wouldna  think  they  could  lead  a  strong  man  to 
hell." 

270 


A   DAUGHTER   OF  THE   SNOWS 

"  By  the  way  you  grumble,  they're  leading  you  fast 
enough,"  Corliss  answered  angrily. 

"  Forty  mile  an  hour,"  Tommy  retorted,  as  he 
walked,  away,  gloating  over  having  the  last  word. 

"  One  moment.    You've  two  shirts.    Lend  me  one." 

The  Scotsman's  face  lighted  inquisitively,  till  he 
comprehended.  Then  he  shook  his  head  and  started 
on  again. 

Frona  scrambled  to  her  feet.    "  What's  the  matter?" 

"  Nothing.    Sit  down." 

"  But  what  is  the  matter?" 

Corliss  put  his  hands  on  her  shoulders  and  pressed 
her  back.  "  Your  feet.  You  can't  go  on  in  such  shape. 
They're  in  ribbons.  See!"  He  brushed  the  sole  of 
one  of  them  and  held  up  a  blood-dripping  palm. 
"  Why  didn't  you  tell  me?" 

"  Oh,  they  didn't  bother— much." 

"  Give  me  one  of  your  skirts,"  he  demanded. 

"I  .   .   .   ."    She  faltered.    "  I  only  have  one." 

He  looked  about  him.  Tommy  had  disappeared 
among  the  ice-floes. 

"  We  must  be  getting  on,"  Frona  said,  attempting 
to  rise. 

But  he  held  her  back.  "  Not  another  step  till  I  fix 
you.  Here  goes,  so  shut  your  eyes." 

She  obeyed,  and  when  she  opened  them  he  was 
naked  to  the  waist,  and  his  undershirt,  torn  in  strips, 
was  being  bound  about  her  feet. 

"  You  were  in  the  rear,  and  I  did  not  know " 

"  Don't  apologize,  pray,"  she  interrupted.  "  I  could 
have  spoken." 

"I'm  not;    I'm  reproaching  you.     Now,  the  other 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE   SNOWS 

The  nearness  to  her  bred  a  madness,  and  he  touched 
his  lips  lightly  to  the  same  white  little  toe  that  had  won 
the  Baron  Courbertin  a  kiss. 

Though  she  did  not  draw  back,  her  face  flushed, 
and  she  thrilled  as  she  had  thrilled  once  before  in 
her  life.  "  You  take  advantage  of  your  own  good 
ness/'  she  rebuked  him. 

"  Then  I  will  doubly  advantage  myself." 

"  Please  don't,"  she  begged. 

"  And  why  not?  It  is  a  custom  of  the  sea  to  broach 
the  spirits  as  the  ship  prepares  to  sink.  And  since 
this  is  a  sort  of  a  forlorn  hope,  you  know,  why  not?" 

"But  .    .    .    ." 

"  But  what,  Miss  Prim?" 

"  Oh !  Of  all  things,  you  know  I  do  not  deserve 
that !  If  there  were  nobody  else  to  be  considered,  why, 
under  the  circumstances  .  .  .  ." 

He  drew  the  last  knot  tight  and  dropped  her  foot. 
"  Damn  St.  Vincent,  anyway !  Come  on !" 

"  So  would  I,  were  I  you,"  she  laughed,  taking  up 
her  end  of  the  canoe.  "  But  how  you  have  changed, 
Vance.  You  are  not  the  same  man  I  met  on  the  Dyea 
Trail.  You  hadn't  learned  to  swear,  then,  among 
other  things." 

"  No,  I'm  not  the  same ;  for  which  I  thank  God  and 
you.  Only  I  think  I  am  honester  than  you.  I  always 
live  up  to  my  philosophy." 

"  Now  confess  that's  unfair.  You  ask  too  much 
under  the  circumstances " 

"  Only  a  little  toe." 

"  Or  else,  I  suppose,  you  just  care  for  me  in  a  kind, 
big-brotherly  way.  In  which  case,  if  you  really  wish 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

"  Do  keep  quiet,"  he  broke  in,  roughly,  "  or  I'll  be 
making  a  gorgeous  fool  of  myself." 

"  Kiss  all  my  toes,"  she  finished. 

He  grunted,  but  did  not  deign  a  reply.  The  work 
quickly  took  their  breath,  and  they  went  on  in  silence 
till  they  descended  the  last  steep  to  where  McPherson 
waited  by  the  open  river. 

"  Del  hates  St.  Vincent,"  she  said  boldly.    "Why?" 

"  Yes,  it  seems  that  way."  He  glanced  back  at  her 
curiously.  "  And  wherever  he  goes,  Del  lugs  an  old 
Russian  book,  which  he  can't  read  but  which  he  never- 
the  less  regards,  in  some  sort  of  way,  as  St.  Vincent's 
Nemesis.  And  do  you  know,  Frona,  he  has  such  faith 
in  it  that  I  can't  help  catching  a  little  myself.  I  don't 
know  whether  you'll  come  to  me,  or  whether  I'll  go 
to  you,  but " 

She  dropped  her  end  of  the  canoe  and  broke  out  in 
laughter.  He  was  annoyed,  and  a  hurt  spread  of  blood 
ruddied  his  face. 

"  If  I  have "  he  began. 

"Stupid!"  she  laughed.  "Don't  be  silly!  And 
above  all  don't  be  dignified.  It  doesn't  exactly  be 
come  you  at  the  present  moment, — your  hair  all 
tangled,  a  murderous  knife  in  your  belt,  and  naked 
to  the  waist  like  a  pirate  stripped  for  battle.  Be  fierce, 
frown,  swear,  anything,  but  please  don't  be  dignified. 
I  do  wish  I  had  my  camera.  In  after  years  I  could 
say :  '  This,  my  friends,  is  Corliss,  the  great  Arctic 
explorer,  just  as  he  looked  at  the  conclusion  of  his 
world-famous  trip  Through  Darkest  Alaska'" 

He  pointed  an  ominous  finger  at  her  and  said 
sternlv.  "Where  is  vour  skirt?" 

rde- 


A   DAUGHTER   OF  THE   SNOWS 

malion  presence  relieved  her,  and  her  face  jerked  up 
scarlet. 

"  You  should  be  ashamed !" 

"  Please,  please  do  not  be  dignified,"  he  laughed. 
"  Very  true,  it  doesn't  exactly  become  you  at  the 
present  moment.  Now,  if  I  had  my  camera " 

"  Do  be  quiet  and  go  on,"  she  said.  "  Tommy  is 
waiting.  I  hope  the  sun  takes  the  skin  all  off  your 
back,"  she  panted  vindictively,  as  they  slid  the 
canoe  down  the  last  shelf  and  dropped  it  into  the 
water. 

Ten  minutes  later  they  climbed  the  ice-wall,  and  on 
and  up  the  bank,  which  was  partly  a  hillside,  to  where 
the  signal  of  distress  still  fluttered.  Beneath  it,  on  the 
ground,  lay  stretched  the  man.  He  lay  very  quietly, 
and  the  fear  that  they  were  too  late  was  upon  them, 
when  he  moved  his  head  slightly  and  moaned.  His 
rough  clothes  were  in  rags,  and  the  black,  bruised 
flesh  of  his  feet  showed  through  the  remnants  of  his 
moccasins.  His  body  was  thin  and  gaunt,  without 
flesh-pads  or  muscles,  while  the  bones  seemed  ready  to 
break  through  the  tight- stretched  skin.  As  Corliss 
felt  his  pulse,  his  eyes  fluttered  open  and  stared 
glassily.  Frona  shuddered. 

"  Man,  it's  fair  gruesome,"  McPherson  muttered, 
running  his  hand  up  a  shrunken  arm. 

"  You  go  on  to  the  canoe,  Frona,"  Corliss  said. 
"  Tommy  and  I  will  carry  him  down." 

But  her  lips  set  firmly.  Though  the  descent  was 
made  easier  by  her  aid,  the  man  was  well  shaken  by 
the  time  they  laid  him  in  the  bottom  of  the  canoe, — 
so  well  shaken"  that  cntn>'lacf  ci->i-^'i<?  ^f  /-^«o^^,-.c-o«.'- 


A   DAUGHTER   OF  THE   SNOWS 

hoarsely,  "  Jacob  Welse  ....  despatches  .... 
from  the  Outside."  He  plucked  feebly  at  his  open 
shirt,  and  across  his  emaciated  chest  they  saw  the 
leather  strap,  to  which,  doubtless,  the  despatch-pouch 
was  slung. 

At  either  end  of  the  canoe  there  was  room  to  spare, 
but  amidships  Corliss  was  forced  to  paddle  with  the 
man  between  his  knees.  La  Bijou  swung  out  blithely 
from  the  bank.  It  was  down-stream  at  last,  and  there 
was  little  need  for  exertion. 

Vance's  arms  and  shoulders  and  back,  a  bright  scar 
let,  caught  Frona's  attention.  "  My  hopes  are  real 
ized,"  she  exulted,  reaching  out  and  softly  stroking  a 
burning  arm.  "  We  shall  have  to  put  cold  cream  on 
it  when  we  get  back." 

"  Go  ahead/'  he  encouraged.  "  That  feels  awfully 
good." 

She  splashed  his  hot  back  with  a  handful  of  the  ice- 
cold  water  from  over-side.  He  caught  his  breath  with 
a  gasp,  and  shivered.  Tommy  turned  about  to  look  at 
them. 

"  It's  a  guid  deed  we'll  'a  doon  this  day,"  he  re 
marked,  pleasantly.  :<  To  gie  a  hand  in  distress  is 
guid  i'  the  sight  of  God." 

"Who's  af eared?"    Frona  laughed. 

"Weel,"  he  deliberated,  "I  was  a  bit  fashed,  no 
doot,  but " 

His  utterance  ceased,  and  he  seemed  suddenly  to 
petrify.  His  eyes  fixed  themselves  in  a  terrible  stare 
over  Frona's  shoulder.  And  then,  slowly  and  dream 
ily,  with  the  solemnity  fitting  an  invocation  of  Deity, 
he  murmured,  "  Guid  Gawd  Almichty !" 

They  whirled  their  heads  about.  A  wall  of  ice  was 
275 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

sweeping  round  the  bend,  and  even  as  they  looked  the 
right-hand  flank,  unable  to  compass  the  curve,  struck 
the  further  shore  and  flung  up  a  ridge  of  heaving 
mountains. 

"  Guid  Gawd !  Guid  Gawd !  Like  rats  i'  the  trap !" 
Tommy  jabbed  his  paddle  futilely  in  the  water. 

"  Get  the  stroke !"  Corliss  hissed  in  his  ear,  and  La 
Bijou  sprang  away. 

Frona  steered  straight  across  the  current,  at  almost 
right  angles,  for  Split-up ;  but  when  the  sandspit,  over 
which  they  had  portaged,  crashed  at  the  impact  of  a 
million  tons,  Corliss  glanced  at  her  anxiously.  She 
smiled  and  shook  her  head,  at  the  same  time  slacking 
off  the  course. 

"  We  can't  make  it,"  she  whispered,  looking  back 
at  the  ice  a  couple  of  hundred  feet  away.  "  Our  only 
chance  is  to  run  before  it  and  work  in  slowly."' 

She  cherished  every  inward  inch  jealously,  holding 
the  canoe  up  as  sharply  as  she  dared  and  at  the  same 
time  maintaining  a  constant  distance  ahead  of  the 
ice-rim. 

"  I  canna  stand  the  pace,"  Tommy  whimpered  once ; 
but  the  silence  of  Corliss  and  Frona  seemed  ominous, 
and  he  kept  his  paddle  going. 

At  the  very  fore  of  the  ice  was  a  floe  five  or  six  feet 
thick  and  a  couple  of  acres  in  extent.  Reaching  out 
in  advance  of  the  pack,  it  clove  through  the  water  till 
on  either  side  there  formed  a  bore  like  that  of  a  quick 
flood-tide  in  an  inland  passage.  Tommy  caught  sight  of 
it,  and  would  have  collapsed  had  not  Corliss  prodded 
him,  between  strokes,  with  the  point  of  his  paddle. 

"  We  can  keep  ahead,"  Frona  panted ;  "  but  we  must 
get  time  to  make  the  landing?" 

276 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE    SNOWS 

—    -.    _        -  - 

"  When  the  chance  comes,  drive  her  in,  bow  on," 
Corliss  counselled ;  "  and  when  she  strikes,  jump  and 
run  for  it." 

"  Climb,  rather.    I'm  glad  my  skirt  is  short." 

Repulsed  by  the  bluffs  of  the  left  bank,  the  ice  was 
forced  towards  the  right.  The  big  floe,  in  advance, 
drove  in  upon  the  precise  point  of  Split-up  Island. 

"If  you  look  back,  I'll  brain  you  with  the  padclle," 
Corliss  threatened. 

"  Ay/'  Tommy  groaned. 

But  Corliss  looked  back,  and  so  did  Frona.  The 
great  berg  struck  the  land  with  an  earthquake  shock. 
For  fifty  feet  the  soft  island  was  demolished.  A  score 
of  pines  swayed  frantically  and  went  down,  and  where 
they  went  down  rose  up  a  mountain  of  ice,  which  rose, 
and  fell,  and  rose  again.  Below,  and  but  a  few  feet 
away,  Del  Bishop  ran  out  to  the  bank,  and  above  the 
roar  they  could  hear  faintly  his  "  Hit  'er  up !  Hit  'er 
up!"  Then  the  ice-rim  wrinkled  up  and  he  sprang 
back  to  escape  it. 

'  The  first  opening,"  Corliss  gasped. 

Frona's  lips  spread  apart;  she  tried  to  speak  but 
failed,  then  nodded  her  head  that  she  had  heard.  They 
swung  along  in  rapid  rhythm  under  the  rainbow-wall, 
looking  for  a  place  where  it  might  be  quickly  cleared. 
And  down  all  the  length  of  Split-up  Island  they  raced 
vainly,  the  shore  crashing  behind  them  as  they  fled. 

As  they  darted  across  the  mouth  of  the  back-channel 
to  Roubeau  Island  they  found  themselves  heading 
directly  for  an  opening  in  the  rim-ice.  La  Bijou  drove 
into  it  full  tilt,  and  went  half  her  length  out  of  water 
on  a  shelving  cake.  The  three  leaped  together,  but 
while  the  two  of  them  gripped  the  canoe  to  run  it  up, 

277 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

Tommy,  in  the  lead,  strove  only  to  save  himself.  And 
he  would  have  succeeded  had  he  not  slipped  ancl  fallen 
midway  in  the  climb.  He  half  arose,  slipped,  and  fell 
again.  Corliss,  hauling  on  the  bow  of  the  canoe, 
trampled  over  him.  He  reached  up  and  clutched  the 
gunwale.  They  did  not  have  the  strength,  and  this 
clog  brought  them  at  once  to  a  standstill.  Corliss 
looked  back  and  yelled  for  him  to  teave  go,  but  he 
only  turned  upward  a  piteous  face,  like  that  of  a 
drowning  man,  and  clutched  more  tightly.  Behind 
them  the  ice  was  thundering.  The  first  flurry  of 
coming  destruction  was  upon  them.  They  endeavored 
desperately  to  drag  up  the  canoe,  but  the  added  burden 
was  too  much,  and  they  fell  on  their  knees.  The  sicK 
man  sat  up  suddenly  and  laughed  wildly.  "  Blood  of 
my  soul !"  he  ejaculated,  and  laughed  again. 

Roubeau  Island  swayed  to  the  first  shock,  and  the 
ice  was  rocking  under  their  feet.  Frona  seized  a  pad 
dle  and  smashed  the  Scotsman's  knuckles;  and  the 
instant  he  loosed  his  grip,  Corliss  carried  the  canoe 
up  in  a  mad  rush,  Frona  clinging  on  and  helping  from 
behind.  The  rainbow-wall  curled  up  like  a  scroll,  and 
in  the  convolutions  of  the  scroll,  like  a  bee  in  the  many 
folds  of  a  magnificent  orchid,  Tommy  disappeared. 

They  fell,  breathless,  on  the  earth.  But  a  monstrous 
cake  shoved  up  from  the  jam  and  balanced  above  them. 
Frona  tried  to  struggle  to  her  feet,  but  sank  on  her 
knees;  and  it  remained  for  Corliss  to  snatch  her  and 
the  canoe  out  from  underneath.  Again  they  fell,  this 
time  under  the  trees,  the  sun  sifting  down  upon  them 
through  the  green  pine  needles,  the  robins  singing 
overhead,  and  a  colony  of  crickets  chirping  in  the 
warmth. 

278 


CHAPTER  XXVI 


FRONA  woke,  slowly,  as  though  from  a  long  dream. 
She  was  lying  where  she  had  fallen,  across  Corliss's 
legs,  while  he,  on  his  back,  faced  the  hot  sun  without 
concern.  She  crawled  up  to  him.  He  was  breathing 
regularly,  with  closed  eyes,  which  opened  to  mee't  hers. 
He  smiled,  and  she  sank  down  again.  Then  he  rolled 
over  on  his  side,  and  they  looked  at  each  other. 

"  Vance." 

"  Yes." 

She  reached  out  her  hand;  his  closed  upon  it,  and 
their  eyelids  fluttered  and  drooped  down.  The  river 
still  rumbled  en,  somewhere  in  the  infinite  distance, 
but  it  came  to  them  like  the  murmur  of  a  world  for 
gotten.  A  soft  languor  encompassed  them.  The 
golden  sunshine  dripped  down  upon  them  through  the 
living  green,  and  all  the  life  of  the  warm  earth  seemed 
singing.  And  quiet  was  very  good.  Fifteen  long 
minutes  they  drowsed,  and  woke  again. 

Frona  sat  up.    "  I — I  was  afraid,"  she  said. 

"  Not  you." 

"  Afraid  that  I  might  be  afraid,"  she  amended,  fum 
bling  with  her  hair. 

"  Leave  it  down.    The  day  merits  it." 

She  complied,  with  a  toss  of  the  head  which  circled 
it  with  a  nimbus  of  rippling  yellow. 

"  Tommy's  gone,"  Corliss  mused,  the  race  with  the 
ice  coming  slowly  back. 

279 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE    SNOWS 

"  Yes,"  she  answered.  "  I  rapped  him  on  the 
knuckles.  It  was  terrible.  But  the  chance  is  we've  a 
better  man  in  the  canoe,  and  we  must  care  for  him  at 
once.  Hello!  Look  there!"  Through  the  trees,  not 
a  score  of  feet  away,  she  saw  the  wall  of  a  large  cabin. 
"  Nobody  in  sight.  It  must  be  deserted,  or  else  they're 
visiting,  whoever  they  are.  You  look  to  our  man, 
Vance, — I'm  more  presentable, — and  I'll  go  and 
see." 

She  skirted  the  cabin,  which  was  a  large  one  for  the 
Yukon  country,  and  came  around  to  where  it  fronted 
on  the  river.  The  door  stood  open,  and,  as  she  paused 
to  knock,  the  whole  interior  flashed  upon  her  in  an 
astounding  picture, — a  cumulative  picture,  or  series  of 
pictures,  as  it  were.  For  first  she  was  aware  of  a 
crowd  of  men,  and  of  some  great  common  purpose 
upon  which  all  were  seriously  bent.  At  her  knock 
they  instinctively  divided,  so  that  a  lane  opened  up, 
flanked  by  their  pressed  bodies,  to  the  far  end  of  the 
room.  And  there,  in  the  long  bunks  on  either  side, 
sat  two  grave  rows  of  men.  And  midway  between, 
against  the  wall,  was  a  table.  This  table  seemed  the 
centre  of  interest.  Fresh  from  the  sun-dazzle,  the 
light  within  was  dim  and  murky,  but  she  managed  to 
make  out  a  bearded  American  sitting  by  the  table 
and  hammering  it  with  a  heavy  caulking-mallet. 
And  on  the  opposite  side  sat  St.  Vincent.  She 
had  time  to  note  his  worn  and  haggard  face,  before 
a  man  of  Scandinavian  appearance  slouched  up  to 
the  table. 

The  man  with  the  mallet  raised  his  right  hariH  and 
said  glibly,  "  You  do  most  solemnly  swear  that  what 

you  are  about  to  give  before  the  court "  He  ab- 

280 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

ruptly  stopped  and  glowered  at  the  man  before  him. 
"  Take  off  your  hat !"  he  roared,  and  a  snicker  went 
up  from  the  crowd  as  the  man  obeyed. 

Then  he  of  the  mallet  began  again.  "  You  do  most 
solemnly  swear  that  what  you  are  about  to  give  before 
the  court  shall  be  the  truth,  the  whole  truth,  and  noth 
ing  but  the  truth,  so  help  you  God?" 

The  Scandinavian  nodded  and  dropped  his  hand. 

"  One  moment,  gentlemen."  Frona  advanced  up  the 
lane,  which  closed  behind  her. 

St.  Vincent  sprang  to  his  feet  and  stretched  out  his 
arms  to  her.  "  Frona,"  he  cried,  "  oh,  Frona,  I  am 
innocent !" 

It  struck  her  like  a  blow,  the  unexpectedness  olc  it, 
and  for  the  instant,  in  the  sickly  light,  she  was  con 
scious  only  of  the  ring  of  white  faces,  each  face  set 
with  eyes  that  burned.  Innocent  of  what?  she 
thought,  and  as  she  looked  at  St.  Vincent,  arms  still 
extended,  she  was  aware,  in  a  vague,  troubled  way,  of 
something  distasteful.  Innocent  of  what?  He  might 
have  had  more  reserve.  He  might  have  waited  till  he 
was  charged.  She  did  not  know  that  he  was  charged 
with  anything. 

"  Friend  of  the  prisoner,"  the  man  with  the  mallet 
said  authoritatively.  "  Bring  a  stool  for'ard,  some  of 
you." 

"  One  moment  .  .  .  . "  She  staggered  against  the 
table  and  rested  a  hand  on  it.  "  I  do  not  understand. 
This  is  all  new  .  .  .  ."  But  her  eyes  happened  to 
come  to  rest  on  her  feet,  wrapped  in  dirty  rags,  and 
she  knew  that  she  was  clad  in  a  short  and  tattered 
skirt,  that  her  arm  peeped  forth  through  a  rent  in  her 
sleeve,  and  that  her  hair  was  down  and  flying.  Her 

281 


A   DAUGHTER   OF  THE   SNOWS 

cheek  ancTneck  on  one  side  seemed  coated  with  some 
curious  substance.  She  brushed  it  with  her  hand,  and 
caked  mud  rattled  to  the  floor. 

"  That  will  do,"  the  man  said,  not  unkindly.  "  Sit 
down.  We're  in  the  same  box.  We  do  not  under 
stand.  But  take  my  word  for  it,  we're  here  to  find  out. 
So  sit  down." 

She  raised  her  hand.    "  One  moment " 

"  Sit  down !"  he  thundered.  "  The  court  cannot  be 
disturbed." 

A  hum  went  up  from  the  crowd,  words  of  dissent, 
and  the  man  pounded  the  table  for  silence.  But  Frona 
resolutely  kept  her  feet. 

When  the  noise  had  subsided,  she  addressed  the  man 
in  the  chair.  "  Mr.  Chairman :  I  take  it  that  this 
is  a  miners'  meeting."  (The  man  nodded.)  "Then, 
having  an  equal  voice  in  the  managing  of  this  com 
munity's  affairs,  I  demand  to  be  heard.  It  is  important 
that  I  should  be  heard." 

"  But  you  are  out  of  order,  Miss — er " 

"  Welse !"  half  a  dozen  voices  prompted. 

"  Miss  Welse,"  he  went  on,  an  added  respect  mark 
ing  his  demeanor,  "  it  grieves  me  to  inform  you  that 
you  are  out  of  order.  You  had  best  sit  down." 

"  1  will  not,"  she  answered.  "  I  rise  to  a  question 
of  privilege,  and  if  I  am  not  heard,  I  shall  appeal  to  the 
meeting." 

She  swept  the  crowd  with  her  eyes,  and  cries  went 
up  that  she  be  given  a  fair  show.  The  chairman 
yielded  and  motioned  her  to  go  on. 

"  Mr.  Chairman  and  men :  I  do  not  know  the  busi 
ness  you  have  at  present  before  you,  but  I  do  know 
that  I  have  more  important  business  to  place  before 

282 


A   DAUGHTER   OF  THE   SNOWS 

you.  Just  outside  this  cabin  is  a  man  probably  dying 
from  starvation.  We  have  brought  him  from  across 
the  river.  We  should  not  have  bothered  you,  but  we 
were  unable  to  make  our  own  island.  This  man  I 
speak  of  needs  immediate  attention/' 

"  A  couple  of  you  nearest  the  door  go  out  and  look 
after  him,"  the  chairman  ordered.  "  And  you,  Doc 
Holiday,  go  along  and  see  what  you  can  do." 

"  Ask  for  a  recess,"  St.  Vincent  whispered. 

Frona  nodded  her  head.  "  And,  Mr.  Chairman,  I 
make  a  motion  for  a  recess  until  the  man  is  cared  for." 

Cries  of  "  No  recess !"  and  "  Go  on  with  the  busi 
ness!"  greeted  the  putting  of  it,  and  the  motion  was 
lost. 

"  Now,  Gregory,"  with  a  smile  and  salutation  as 
she  took  the  stool  beside  him,  "  what  is  it  ?" 

He  gripped  her  hand  tightly.  "  Don't  believe  them, 
Frona.  They  are  trying  to" — with  a  gulping  swallow 
— "  to  kill  me." 

"Why?    Do  be  cairn.    Tell  me." 

"  Why,  last  night,"  he  began  hurriedly,  but  broke 
off  to  listen  to  the  Scandinavian  previously  sworn,  who 
was  speaking  with  ponderous  slowness. 

"  I  wake  wide  open  quick,"  he  was  saying.  "  I 
coom  to  the  door.  I  there  hear  one  shot  more." 

He  was  interrupted  by  a  warm-complexioned  man 
clad  in  faded  mackinaws.  "  What  did  you  think  ?"  he 
asked. 

"Eh?"  the  witness  queried,  his  face  dark  and 
troubled  with  perplexity. 

"  When  you  came  to  the  door,  what  was  your  first 
thought?" 

"  A-w-w,"  the  man  sighed,  his  face  clearing  and 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

infinite  comprehension  sounding  in  his  voice.  "  I  have 
no  moccasins.  I  t'ink  pretty  damn  cold."  His  satis 
fied  expression  changed  to  naive  surprise  when  an 
outburst  of  laughter  greeted  his  statement,  but  he  went 
on  stolidly.  "  One  more  shot  I  hear,  and  I  run  down 
the  trail." 

Then  Corliss  pressed  in  through  the  crowd  to  Frona, 
and  she  lost  what  the  man  was  saying. 

'f  What's  up  ?"  the  engineer  was  asking.  "  Any 
thing  serious  ?  Can  I  be  of  any  use  ?" 

"  Yes,  yes."  She  caught  his  hand  gratefully.  "  Get 
over  the  back-channel  somehow  and  tell  my  father  to 
come.  Tell  him  that  Gregory  St.  Vincent  is  in  trou 
ble;  that  he  is  charged  with What  are  you 

charged  with,  Gregory  ?"  she  asked,  turning  to  him. 

"  Murder." 

"Murder?"  from  Corliss. 

"  Yes,  yes.  Say  that  he  is  charged  with  murder ; 
that  I  am  here;  and  that  I  need  him.  And  tell  him 
to  bring  me  some  clothes.  And,  Vance," — with  a 
pressure  of  the  hand  and  swift  upward  look, — "  don't 
take  any  ....  any  big  chances,  but  do  try  to 
make  it." 

"  Oh,  I'll  make  it  all  right."  He  tossed  his  head 
confidently  and  proceeded  to  elbow  his  way  towards 
the  door. 

"  Who  is  helping  you  in  your  defence  ?"  she  asked 
St.  Vincent. 

He  shook  his  head.  "  No.  They  wanted  to  appoint 
some  one, — a  renegade  lawyer  from  the  States,  Bill 
Brown, — but  I  declined  him.  He's  taken  tfie  other 
side,  now.  It's  lynch  law,  you  know,  and  their  minds 
are  made  up.  They're  bound  to  get  me." 

264 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

"  I  wish  there  were  time  to  hear  your  side." 

"  But,  Frona,  I  am  innocent.    1 — — " 

"  S-sh !"  She  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm  to  hush  him, 
and  turned  her  attention  to  the  witness. 

"So  the  noospaper  feller,  he  fight  like  anything ; 
but  Pierre  and  me,  we  pull  him  into  the  shack.  He 
cry  and  stand  in  one  place " 

"  Who  cried  ?"  interrupted  the  prosecuting  law 
yer. 

"Him.  That  feller  there."  The  Scandinavian 
pointed,  directly  at  St.  Vincent.  "  And  I  make  a 
light.  The  slush-lamp  I  find  spilt  over  most  every 
thing,  but  I  have  a  candle  in  my  pocket.  It  is  good 
practice  to  carry  a  candle  in  the  pocket/'  he  affirmed 
gravely.  "  And  Borg  he  lay  on  the  floor  dead.  And 
the  squaw  say  he  did  it,  and  then  she  die,  too." 

"Said  who  did  it?" 

Again  his  accusing  finger  singled  out  St.  Vincent. 
"  Him.  That  feller  there." 

"  Did  she  ?"  Frona  whispered. 

"  Yes,"  St.  Vincent  whispered  back,  "  she  did.  But 
I  cannot  imagine  what  prompted  her.  She  must  have 
been  out  of  her  head." 

The  warm-faced  man  in  the  faded  mackinaws  then 
put  the  witness  through  a  searching  examination, 
which  Frona  followed  closely,  but  which  elicited  little 
new. 

"  You  have  the  right  to  cross-examine  the  witness," 
the  chairman  informed  St.  Vincent.  "  Any  questions 
you  want  to  ask?" 

The  correspondent  shook  his  head. 

"  Go  on,"  Frona  urged. 

"  What's  the  use  ?"  he  asked,  hopelessly.  "  I'm  fore- 
285 


A   DAUGHTER   OF  THE   SNOWS 

doomed.  The  verdict  was  reached  before  the  trial 
began." 

"  One  moment,  please."  Frona's  sharp  command 
arrested  the  retiring  witness.  "  You  do  not  know  of 
you  own  knowledge  who  committed  this  murder  ?" 

The  Scandinavian  gazed  at  her  with  a  bovine  ex 
pression  on  his  leaden  features,  as  though  waiting  for 
her  question  to  percolate  to  his  understanding. 

"  You  did  not  see  who  did  it  ?"  she  asked  again. 

"  Aw,  yes.  That  feller  there/'  accusative  finger  to 
the  fore.  "  She  say  he  did." 

There  was  a  general  smile  at  this. 

'"  But  you  did  not  see  it?" 

"  I  hear  some  shooting." 

"  But  you  did  not  see  who  did  the  shooting  ?" 

"  Aw,  no ;  but  she  said " 

"  That  will  do,  thank  you,"  she  said  sweetly,  and 
the  man  retired. 

The  prosecution  consulted  its  notes.  "  Pierre  La 
Flitche!"  was  called  out. 

A  slender,  swart-skinned  man,  lithe  of  figure  and 
graceful,  stepped  forward  to  the  open  space  before  the 
table.  He  was  darkly  handsome,  with  a  quick,  elo 
quent  eye  which  roved  frankly  everywhere.  It  rested 
for  a  moment  on  Frona,  open  and  honest  in  its  admira 
tion,  and  she  smiled  and  half -nodded,  for  she  liked 
him  at  first  glance,  and  it  seemed  as  though  they  had 
met  of  old  time.  He  smiled  pleasantly  back,  the 
smooth  upper  lip  curling  brightly  and  showing  beauti 
ful  teeth,  immaculately  white. 

In  answer  to  the  stereotyped  preliminaries  he  stated 
that  his  name  was  that  of  his  father's,  a  descendant  of 
the  coureurs  du  bois.  His  mother — with  a  shrug  of 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

the  shoulders  and  flash  of  teeth — was  a  breed.  He 
was  born  somewhere  in  the  Barrens,  on  a  hunting 
trip,  he  did  not  know  where.  Ah,  oui,  men  called  him 
an  old-timer.  He  had  come  into  the  country  in  the 
days  of  Jack  McQuestion,  across  the  Rockies  from  the 
Great  Slave. 

On  being  told  to  go  ahead  with  what  he  knew  of 
the  matter  in  hand,  he  deliberated  a  moment,  as  though 
casting  about  for  the  best  departure. 

"  In  the  spring  it  is  good  to  sleep  with  the  open 
door,"  he  began,  his  words  sounding  clear  and  flute- 
like  and  marked  by  haunting  memories  of  the  accents 
his  forbears  put  into  the  tongue.  "  And  so  I  sleep 
last  night.  But  I  sleep  like  the  cat.  The  fall  of  the 
leaf,  the  breath  of  the  wind,  and  my  ears  whisper  to 
me,  whisper,  whisper,  all  the  night  long.  So,  the*first 
shot/'  with  a  quick  snap  of  the  fingers,  "  and  I  am 
awake,  just  like  that,  and  I  am  at  the  door." 

St.  Vincent  leaned  forward  to  Frona.  "  It  was  not 
the  first  shot." 

She  nodded,  with  her  eyes  still  bent  on  La  Flitche, 
who  gallantly  waited. 

"  Then  two  more  shot/'  he  went  on,  "  quick,  to 
gether,  boom-boom,  just  like  that.  '  Borg's  shack/  I 
say  to  myself,  and  run  down  the  trail.  I  think  Borg 
kill  Bella,  which  was  bad.  Bella  very  fine  girl,"  he 
confided  with  one  of  his  irresistible  smiles.  "  I  like 
Bella.  So  I  run.  And  John  he  run  from  his  cabin 
like  a  fat  cow,  with  great  noise.  '  What  the  matter  ?' 
he  say ;  and  I  say,  '  I  don't  know.'  And  then  some 
thing  come,  wheugh!  out  of  the  dark,  just  like  that, 
and  knock  John  down,  and  knock  me  down.  We  grab 
everywhere  all  at  once.  It  is  a  man.  He  is  in  undress. 

287 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

He  fight.  He  cry,  'Oh!  Oh!  Oh!'  just  like  that. 
We  hold  him  tight,  and  bime-by  pretty  quick,  he  stop. 
Then  we  get  up,  and  I  say,  '  Come  along  back/  " 

"Who  was  the  man?" 

La  Flitche  turned  partly,  and  rested  his  eyes  on  St. 
Vincent. 

"  Go  on." 

"  So  ?  The  man  he  will  not  go  back ;  but  John  and 
I  say  yes,  and  he  go." 

"  Did  he  say  anything?" 

"  I  ask  him  what  the  matter ;  but  he  cry,  he  .  .  .  ., 
he  sob,  huh-tsch,  huh-tsch,  just  like  that." 

"  Did  you  see  anything  peculiar  about  him  ?" 

La  Flitche's  brows  drew  up  interrogatively. 

{<  Anything  uncommon,  out  of  the  ordinary  ?" 

;'  Ah,  oid;  blood  on  the  hands."  Disregarding  the 
murmur  in  the  room,  he  went  on,  his  facile  play  of 
feature  and  gesture  giving  dramatic  value  to  the  re 
cital.  "  John  make  a  light,  and  Bella  groan,  like  the 
hair-seal  when  you  shoot  him  in  the  body,  just  like 
that,  when  you  shoot  him  in  the  body  under  the  flipper. 
And  Borg  lay  over  in  the  corner.  I  look.  He  no 
breathe  'tall. 

"  Then  Bella  open  her  eyes,  and  I  look  in  her  eyes, 
and  I  know  she  know  me,  La  Flitche.  '  Who  did  it, 
Bella?'  I  ask.  And  she  roll  her  head  on  the  floor  and 
whisper,  so  low,  so  slow,  '  Him  dead  ?'  I  know  she 
mean  Borg,  and  I  say  yes.  Then  she  lift  up  on  one 
elbow,  and  look  about  quick,  in  big  hurry,  and  when 
she  see  Vincent  she  look  no  more,  only  she  look  at 
Vincent  all  the  time.  Then  she  point  at  him,  just  like 
that."  Suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  La  Flitche 
turned  and  thrust  a  wavering  finger  at  the  prisoner. 

288 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE    SNOWS 

"  And  she  say,  '  Him,  him,  him.'  And  I  say,  '  Bella, 
who  did  it  ?'  And  she  say,  '  Him,  him,  him.  St. 
Vincha,  him  do  it/  And  then"— La  Flitche's  head  fell 
limply  forward  on  his  chest,  and  came  back  naturally 
erect,  as  he  finished,  with  a  flash  of  teeth,  "  Dead." 

The  warm-faced  man,  Bill  Brown,  put  the  quarter- 
breed  through  the  customary  direct  examination,  which 
served  to  strengthen  his  testimony  and  to  bring  out 
the  fact  that  a  terrible  struggle  must  have  taken  place  in 
the  killing  of  Borg.  The  heavy  table  was  smashed,  the 
stool  and  the  bunk-board  splintered,  and  the  stove  over 
thrown.  "  Never  did  I  see  anything  like  it,"  La  Flitche 
concluded  his  description  of  the  wreck.  "  No,  never." 

Brown  turned  him  over  to  Frona  with  a  bow,  which 
a  smile  of  hers  paid  for  in  full.  She  did  not  deem  it 
unwise  to  cultivate  cordiality  with  the  lawyer.  What 
she  was  working  for  was  time — time  for  her  father  to 
come,  time  to  be  closeted  with  St.  Vincent  and  learn  all 
the  details  of  what  really  had  occurred.  So  she  put 
questions,  questions,  interminable  questions,  to  La 
Flitche.  Twice  only  did  anything  of  moment  crop  up. 

"  You  spoke  of  the  first  shot,  Mr.  La  Flitche.  Now, 
the  walls  of  a  log  cabin  are  quite,  thick.  Had  your  door 
been  closed,  do  you  think  you  could  have  heard  that 
first  shot?" 

He  shook  his  head,  though  his  dark  eyes  told  her  he 
divined  the  point  she  was  endeavoring  to  establish. 

"  And  had  the  door  of  Borg's  cabin  been  closed, 
would  you  have  heard  ?" 

Again  he  shook  his  head. 

"  Then,  Mr.  La  Flitche,  when  you  say  the  first  shot, 
you  do  not  mean  necessarily  the  first  shot  fired,  but 
rather  the  first  shot  you  heard  fired  ?" 
19  289 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE    SNOWS 

He  nodded,  and  though  she  had  scored  her  point  she 
could  not  see  that  it  had  any  material  bearing  after  all. 

Again  she  worked  up  craftily  to  another  and  stronger 
climax,  though  she  felt  all  the  time  that  La  Flitche 
fathomed  her. 

''  You  say  it  was  very  dark,  Mr.  La  Flitche?" 

"  Ah,  oui ;  quite  dark." 

"  How  dark  ?  How  did  you  know  it  was  John  you 
met?" 

"  John  make  much  noise  when  he  run.  I  know  that 
kind  of  noise." 

"  Could  you  see  him  so  as  to  know  that  it  was  he  ?" 

"  Ah,  no." 

"  Then,  Mr.  La  Flitche,"  she  demanded,  trium 
phantly,  "  will  you  please  state  how  you  knew  there 
was  blood  on  the  hands  of  Mr.  St.  Vincent  ?" 

His  lip  lifted  in  a  dazzling  smile,  and  he  paused  a 
moment.  "  How  ?  I  feel  it  warm  on  his  hands.  And 
my  nose — ah,  the  smoke  of  the  hunter  camp  long  way 
off,  the  hole  where  the  rabbit  hide,  the  track  of  the 
moose  which  has  gone  before,  does  not  my  nose  tell 
me?"  He  flung  his  head  back,  and  with  tense  face, 
eyes  closed,  nostrils  quivering  and  dilated,  he  simulated 
the  quiescence  of  all  the  senses  save  one  and  the  con 
centration  of  his  whole  being  upon  that  one.  Then  his 
eyes  fluttered  partly  open  and  he  regarded  her  dream 
ily.  "  I  smell  the  blood  on  his  hands,  the  warm  blood, 
the  hot  blood  on  his  hands." 

"  And  by  gad  he  can  do  it !"  some  man  exclaimed. 

And  so  convinced  was  Frona  that  she  glanced  in 
voluntarily  at  St.  Vincent's  hands,  and  saw  there  the 
rusty-brown  stains  on  the  cuffs  of  his  flannel  shirt. 

As  La  Flitche  left  the  stand,  Bill  Brown  came  over 
290 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

to  her  and  shook  hands.  "  No  more  than  proper  I 
should  know  the  lawyer  for  the  defence,"  he  said, 
^ood-naturedly,  running  ov  f  his  notes  for  the  next 
witness. 

"'  But  don't  you  think  it  is  rather  unfair  to  me?"  she 
asked,  brightly.  "  I  have  not  had  time  to  prepare  my 
case.  I  know  nothing  about  it  except  what  I  have 
gleaned  from  your  two  witnesses.  Don't  you  think, 
Mr.  Brown,"  her  voice  rippling  along  in  persuasive 
little  notes,  "  don't  you  think  it  would  be  advisable  to 
adjourn  the  meeting  until  to-morrow?" 

"  Hum,"  he  deliberated,  looking  at  his  watch. 
"  Wouldn't  be  a  bad  idea.  It's  five  o'clock,  anyway, 
and  the  men  ought  to  be  cooking  their  suppers." 

She  thanked  him,  as  some  women  can,  without 
speech ;  yet,  as  he  looked  down  into  her  face  and  eyes, 
he  experienced  a  subtler  and  greater  satisfaction  than 
if  she  had  spoken. 

He  stepped  to  his  old  position  and  addressed  the 
room.  "  On  consultation  of  the  defence  and  the  prose 
cution,  and  upon  consideration  of  the  lateness  of  the 
hour  and  the  impossibility  of  finishing  the  trial  within 
a  reasonable  limit,  I — hum — I  take  the  liberty  of 
moving  an  adjournment  until  eight  o'clock  to-morrow 
morning." 

:l  The  ayes  have  it,"  the  chairman  proclaimed, 
coming  down  from  his  place  and  proceeding  to  build 
the  fire,  for  he  was  a  part-owner  of  the  cabin  and  cook 
for  his  crowd. 


391 


CHAP    ER  XXVII 


FRONA  turned  to  St.  Vincent  as  the  last  of  the  crowd 
filed  out.  He  clutched  s  spasmodically,  like  a 

drowning  man. 

"  Do  believe  me,  Frona.    Promise  me." 

Her  face  flushed.  "  You  are  excited/'  she  said,  "  or 
you  would  not  say  such  things.  Not  that  I  blame  you/* 
she  relented.  "  I  hardly  imagine  the  situation  can  be 
anything  else  but  exciting." 

"  Yes,  and  well  I  know  it,"  he  answered,  bitterly. 
"  I  am  acting  like  a  fool,  and  I  can't  help  ft.  The 
strain  has  been  terrible.  And  as  though  the  horror  of 
Borg's  end  were  not  enough,  to  be  considered  the  mur 
derer,  and  haled  up  for  mob  justice!  Forgive  me, 
Frona.  I  am  beside  myself.  Of  course,  I  know  that 
you  will  believe  me." 

"  Then  tell  me,  Gregory." 

"  In  the  first  place,  the  woman,  Bella,  lied.  She 
must  have  been  crazed  to  make  that  dying  statement 
when  I  fought  as  I  did  for  her  and  Borg.  That  is  the 
only  explanation " 

"  Begin  at  the  beginning,"  she  interrupted.  "  Re 
member,  I  know  nothing." 

He  settled  himself  more  comfortably  on  the  stool, 
and  rolled  a  cigarette  as  he  took  up  the  history  of  the 
previous  night. 

"  It  must  have  been  about  one  in  the  morning  when 
I  was  awakened  by  the  lighting  of  the  slush-lamp.  I 


A   DAUGHTER   OF  THE   SNOWS 

thought  it  was  Borg ;  wondered  what  he  was  prowling 
about  for,  and  was  on  the  verge  of  dropping  off  to 
sleep,  when,  though  I  do  not  know  what  prompted  me, 
I  opened  my  eyes.  Two  strange  men  were  in  the  cabin. 
Both  wore  masks  and  fur  caps  with  the  flaps  pulled 
down,  so  that  I  could  see  nothing  of  their  faces  save  the 
glistening  of  the  eyes  through  the  eye-slits. 

"  I  had  no  first  thought,  unless  it  was  that  danger 
threatened.  I  lay  quietly  for  a  second  and  deliberated. 
Borg  had  borrowed  my  pistol,  and  I  was  actually  un 
armed.  My  rifle  was  by  the  door.  I  decided  to  make  a 
rush  for  it.  But  no  sooner  had  I  struck  the  floor  than 
one  of  the  men  turned  on  me,  at  the  same  time  firing 
his  revolver.  That  was  the  first  shot,  and  the  one  La 
Flitche  did  not  hear.  It  was  in  the  struggle  afterwards 
that  the  door  was  burst  open,  which  enabled  him  to 
hear  the  last  three. 

"  Well,  I  was  so  close  to  the  man,  and  my  leap  out  of 
the  bunk  was  so  unexpected,  that  he  missed  me.  The 
next  moment  we  grappled  and  rolled  on  the  floor.  Of 
course,  Borg  was  aroused,  and  the  second  man  turned 
his  attention  to  him  and  Bella.  It  was  this  second  man 
who  did  the  killing,  for  my  man,  naturally,  had  his 
hands  full.  You  heard  the  testimony.  From  the  way 
the  cabin  was  wrecked,  you  can  picture  the  struggle. 
We  rolled  and  tossed  about  and  fought  till  stools,  table, 
shelves — everything  was  smashed, 

"  Oh,  Frona,  it  was  terrible !  Borg  fighting  for  life, 
Bella  helping  him,  though  wounded  and  groaning,  and 
I  unable  to  aid.  But  finally,  in  a  very  short  while,  I 
began  to  conquer  the  man  with  whom  I  was  struggling. 
I  had  got  him  down  on  his  back,  pinioned  his  arms 
with  my  knees,  and  was  slowly  throttling  him,  when 

293 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE   SNOWS 

the  other  man  finished  his  work  and  turned  on  me  also. 
What  could  I.  do  ?  Two  to  one,  and  winded !  So  I  was 
thrown  into  the  corner,  and  they  made  their  escape.  I 
confess  that  I  must  have  been  badly  rattled  by  that 
time,  for  as  soon  as  I  caught  my  breath  I  took  out 
after  them,  and  without  a  weapon.  Then  I  collided 
with  La  Flitche  and  John,  and — and  you  know  the  rest. 
Only,"  he  knit  his  brows  in  puzzlement,  "  only,  I  can 
not  understand  why  Bella  should  accuse  me." 

He  looked  at  her  appealingly,  and,  though  she 
pressed  his  hand  sympathetically,  she  remained  silent, 
weighing  pro  and  con  what  she  had  heard. 

She  shook  her  head  slowly.  "  It's  a  bad  case,  and 
the  thing  is  to  convince  them " 

"  But,  my  God,  Frona,  I  am  innocent !  I  have  not 
been  a  saint,  perhaps,  but  my  hands  are  clean  from 
blood." 

"  But  remember,  Gregory,"  she  said,  gently,  "  I  am 
not  to  judge  you.  Unhappily,  it  rests  with  the  men  of 
this  miners'  meeting,  and  the  problem  is :  how  are  they 
to  be  convinced  of  your  innocence?  The  two  main 
points  are  against  you, — Bella's  dying  words  and  the 
blood  on  your  sleeve." 

"  The  place  was  areek  with  blood/'  St.  Vincent 
cried  passionately,  springing  to  his  feet.  "  I  tell  you 
it  was  areek!  How  could  I  avoid  floundering  in  it, 
fighting  as  I  was  for  life?  Can  you  not  take  my 
word " 

"  There,  there,  Gregory.  Sit  down.  You  are  truly 
beside  yourself.  If  your  case  rested  with  me,  you  know 
you  would  go  free  and  clean.  But  these  men, — you 
know  what  mob  rule  is, — how  are  we  to  persuade  them 
to  let  you  go  ?  Don't  you  see  ?  You  have  no  witnesses. 

294 


A    DAUGHTER    OF   THE    SNOWS 

A  dying  woman's  words  are  more  sacred  than  a  living 
man's.  Can  you  show  cause  for  the  woman  to  die  with 
a  lie  on  her  lips?  Had  she  any  reason  to  hate  you? 
Had  you  done  her  or  her  husband  an  injury?" 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  Certainly,  to  us  the  thing  is  inexplicable ;  but  the 
miners  need  no  explanation.  To  them  it  is  obvious. 
It  rests  with  us  to  disprove  the  obvious.  Can  we 
do  it?" 

The  correspondent  sank  down  despondently,  with  a 
collapsing  of  the  chest  and  a  drooping  forward  of  the 
shoulders.  "  Then  am  I  indeed  lost." 

"  No,  it's  not  so  bad  as  that.  You  shall  not  be 
hanged.  Trust  me  for  that." 

"  But  what  can  you  do  ?"  he  asked,  despairingly. 
"  They  have  usurped  the  law,  have  made  themselves 
the  law." 

"  In  the  first  place,  the  river  has  broken.  That 
means  everything.  The  Governor  and  the  territorial 
judges  may  be  expected  in  at  any  moment  with  a  de 
tachment  of  police  at  their  backs.  And  they're  certain 
to  stop  here.  And,  furthermore,  we  may  be  able  to  do 
something  ourselves.  The  river  is  open,  and  if  it  comes 
to  the  worst,  escape  would  be  another  way  out;  and 
escape  is  the  last  thing  they  would  dream  of." 

"  No,  no ;  impossible.  What  are  you  and  I  against 
the  many  ?" 

"  But  there's  my  father  and  Baron  Courbertin.  Four 
determined  people,  acting  together,  may  perform  mira 
cles,  Gregory,  dear.  Trust  me,  it  shall  come  out  well." 

She  kissed  him  and  ran  her  hand  through  his  hair, 
but  the  worried  look  did  not  depart. 

Jacob  Welse  crossed  over  the  back-channel  long  be- 
295 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

fore  dark,  and  with  him  came  Del,  the  baron,  and  Cor 
liss.  While  Frona  retired  to  change  her  clothes  in  one 
of  the  smaller  cabins,  which  the  masculine  owners 
readily  turned  over  to  her,  her  father  saw  to  the  welfare 
of  the  mail-carrier.  The  despatches  were  of  serious  t 
import,  so  serious  that  long  after  Jacob  Welse  had 
read  and  re-read  them  his  face  was  dark  and  clouded ; 
but  he  put  the  anxiety  from  him  when  he  returned  to 
Frona.  St.  Vincent,  who  was  confined  in  an  adjoining 
cabin,  was  permitted  to  see  them. 

"  It  looks  bad,"  Jacob  Welse  said,  on  parting  for  the 
night.  "  But  rest  assured,  St.  Vincent,  bad  or  not, 
you'll  not  be  stretched  up  so  long  as  I've  a  hand  to 
play  in  the  rumpus.  I  am  certain  you  did  not  kill  Borg, 
and  there's  my  fist  on  it." 

"  A  long  day,"  Corliss  remarked,  as  he  walked  back 
with  Frona  to  her  cabin. 

"  And  a  longer  to-morrow/5  she  answered,  wearily. 
"  And  I'm  so  sleepy." 

"  You're  a  brave  little  woman,  and  I'm  proud  of 
you."  It  was  ten  o'clock,  and  he  looked  out  through 
the  dim  twilight  to  the  ghostly  ice  drifting  steadily 
by.  "  And  in  this  trouble,"  he  went  on,  "  depend  upon 
me  in  any  way." 

"In  any  way?"  she  queried,  with  a  catch  in  her 
voice. 

"  If  I  were  a  hero  of  the  melodrama  I'd  say,  '  To 
the  death !'  but  as  I'm  not,  I'll  just  repeat,  in  any  way." 

"You  are  good  to  me,  Vance.  I  can  never 
repay " 

"  Tut !  tut !  I  do  not  put  myself  on  sale.  Love  is 
service,  I  believe." 

She  looked  at  him  for  a  long  time;   but  while  her 
296 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

face  betrayed  soft  wonder,  at  heart  she  was  troubled, 
she  knew  not  why,  and  the  events  of  the  day,  and  of 
all  the  days  since  she  had  known  him,  came  fluttering 
through  her  mind. 

"  Do  you  believe  in  a  white  friendship  ?"  she  asked 
at  last.  "  For  I  do  hope  that  such  a  bond  may  hold  us 
always.  A  bright,  white  friendship,  a  comradeship,  as 
it  were?"  And  as  she  asked,  she  was  aware  that  the 
phrase  did  not  quite  express  what  she  felt  and  would 
desire.  And  when  he  shook  his  head,  she  experienced 
a  glad  little  inexplicable  thrill. 

"A  comradeship?"  he  questioned.  "When  you 
know  I  love  you  ?" 

"  Yes,"  she  affirmed  in  a  low  voice. 

"  I  am  afraid,  after  all,  that  your  knowledge  of  man 
is  very  limited.  Believe  me,  we  are  not  made  of  sucK 
clay.  A  comradeship  ?  A  coming  in  out  of  the  cold  to 
sit  by  your  fire?  Good.  But  a  coming  in  when  an 
other  man  sits  with  you  by  your  fire  ?  No.  Comrade 
ship  would  demand  that  I  delight  in  your  delights,  and 
yet,  do  you  think  for  a  moment  that  I  could  see  you 
with  another  man's  child  in  your  arms,  a  child  which 
might  have  been  mine;  with  that  other  man  looking 
out  at  me  through  the  child's  eyes,  laughing  at  me 
through  its  mouth  ?  I  say,  do  you  think  I  could  delight 
in  your  delights?  No,  no;  love  cannot  shackle  itself 
with  white  friendships." 

She  put  her  hand  on  his  arm. 

"  Do  you  think  I  am  wrong  ?"  he  asked,  bewildered 
by  the  strange  look  in  her  face. 

She  was  sobbing  quietly. 

:t  You  are  tired  and  overwrought.  So  there,  good 
night.  You  must  get  to  bed." 

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A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

"  No,  don't  go,  not  yet."  And  she  arrested  him. 
"  No,  no ;  I  am  foolish.  As  you  say,  I  am  tirecl.  But 
listen,  Vance.  There  is  much  to  be  done.  We  must 
plan  to-morrow's  work.  Come  inside.  Father  and 
Baron  Courbertin  are  together,  and  if  the  worst  comes, 
we  four  must  do  big  things." 

"  Spectacular,"  Jacob  Welse  commented,  when 
Frona  had  briefly  outlined  the  course  of  action  and 
assigned  them  their  parts.  "  But  its  very  unexpected 
ness  ought  to  carry  it  through." 

"A  coup  d'etat!"  was  the  Baron's  verdict.  "Mag 
nificent!  Ah!  I  feel  warm  all  over  at  the  thought. 
'  Hands  up !'  I  cry,  thus,  and  very  fierce. 

"And  if  they  do  not  hold  up  their  hands?"  he  ap 
pealed  to  Jacob  Welse. 

"  Then  shoot.  Never  bluff  when  you're  behind  a 
gun,  Courbertin.  It's  held  by  good  authorities  to  be 
unhealthy." 

"  And  you  are  to  take  charge  of  La  Bijou,  Vance," 
Frona  said.  "  Father  thinks  there  will  be  little  ice  to 
morrow  if  it  doesn't  jam  to-night.  All  you've  to  do  is 
to  have  the  canoe  by  the  bank  just  before  the  door. 
Of  course,  you  won't  know  what  is  happening  until 
St.  Vincent  comes  running.  Then  in  with  him,  and 
away  you  go — Dawson!  So  I'll  say  good-night  and 
good-by  now,  for  I  may  not  have  the  opportunity  in 
the  morning." 

"  And  keep  the  left-hand  channel  till  you're  past  the 
bend,"  Jacob  Welse  counselled  him ;  "  then  take  the 
cut-offs  to  the  right  and  follow  the  swiftest  water. 
Now  off  with  you  and  into  your  blankets.  It's  seventy 
miles  to  Dawson,  and  you'll  have  to  make  it  at  one- 
dip." 

298 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 


JACOB  WELSE  was  given  due  respect  when  he  arose 
at  the  convening  of  the  miners'  meeting  and  denounced 
the  proceedings.  While  such  meetings  had  per 
formed  a  legitimate  function  in  the  past,  he  contended, 
when  there  was  no  law  in  the  land,  that  time  was  now 
beyond  recall ;  for  law  was  now  established,  and  it 
was  just  law.  The  Queen's  government  had  shown 
itself  fit  to  cope  with  the  situation,  and  for  them  to 
usurp  its  powers  was  to  step  backward  into  the  night 
out  of  which  they  had  come.  Further,  no  lighter 
word  than  "  criminal"  could  characterize  such  con 
duct.  And  yet  further,  he  promised  them,  in  set, 
sober  terms,  if  anything  serious  were  the  outcome, 
to  take  an  active  part  in  the  prosecution  of  every  one 
of  them.  At  the  conclusion  of  his  speech  he  made 
a  motion  to  hold  the  prisoner  for  the  territorial  court 
and  to  adjourn,  but  was  voted  down  without  discus 
sion. 

"  Don't  you  see,"  St.  Vincent  said  to  Frona,  "  there 
is  no  hope?" 

"  But  there  is.  Listen !"  And  she  swiftly  outlined 
the  plot  of  the  night  before. 

He  followed  her  in  a  half-hearted  way,  too  crushed 
to  partake  of  her  enthusiasm.  "  It's  madness  to  at 
tempt  it,"  he  objected,  when  she  had  done. 

"  And  it  looks  very  much  like  hanging  not  to  attempt 
299 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

it,"  she  answered  a  little  spiritedly.    "  Surely  you  will 
make  a  fight?" 

"  Surely,"  he  replied,  hollowly. 

The  first  witnesses  were  two  Swedes,  who  told  of  the 
wash-tub  incident,  when  Borg  had  given  way  to  one  of 
his  fits  of  anger.  Trivial  as  the  incident  was,  in  the 
light  of  subsequent  events  it  at  once  became  serious. 
It  opened  the  way  for  the  imagination  into  a  vast  famil 
iar  field.  It  was  not  so  much  what  was  said  as  what 
was  left  unsaid.  Men  born  of  women,  the  rudest  of 
them,  knew  life  well  enough  to  be  aware  of  its  signifi 
cance, — a  vulgar  common  happening,  capable  of  but 
one  interpretation.  Heads  were  wagged  knowingly  in 
the  course  of  the  testimony,  and  whispered  comments 
went  the  rounds. 

Half  a  dozen  witnesses  followed  in  rapid  succession, 
all  of  whom  had  closely  examined  the  scene  of  the 
crime  and  gone  over  the  island  carefully,  and  all  of 
whom  were  agreed  that  there  was  not  the  slightest 
trace  to  be  found  of  the  two  men  mentioned  by  the 
prisoner  in  his  preliminary  statement. 

To  Frona's  surprise,  Del  Bishop  went  upon  the 
stand.  She  knew  he  disliked  St.  Vincent,  but  could 
not  imagine  any  evidence  he  could  possess  which  would 
bear  upon  the  case. 

Being  sworn,  and  age  and  nationality  ascertained, 
Bill  Brown  asked  him  his  business. 

"  Pocket-miner,"  he  challenged  back,  sweeping  the 
assemblage  with  an  aggressive  glance. 

Now,  it  happens  that  a  very  small  class  of  men  fol 
low  pocketing,  and  that  a  very  large  class  of  men, 
miners,  too,  disbelieve  utterly  in  any  such  method  of 
obtaining  gold. 

300 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE   SNOWS 

"  Pocket-miner !"  sneered  a  red-shirted,  patriarchal- 
looking  man,  a  man  who  had  washed  his  first  pan  in 
the  Californian  diggings  in  the  early  fifties. 

"  Yep,"  Del  affirmed. 

"  Now,  look  here,  young  feller,"  his  interlocutor  con 
tinued,  "  d'ye  mean  to  tell  me  you  ever  struck  it  in 
such-fangled  way?" 

"  Yep." 

"  Don't  believe  it,"  with  a  contemptuous  shrug. 

Del  swallowed  fast  and  raised  his  head  with  a  jerk. 
"  Mr.  Chairman,  I  rise  to  make  a  statement.  I  won't 
interfere  with  the  dignity  of  the  court,  but  I  just  wish 
to  simply  and  distinctly  state  that  after  the  meeting's 
over  I'm  going  to  punch  the  head  of  every  man  that 
gets  gay.  Understand?" 

"  You're  out  of  order,"  the  chairman  replied,  rapping 
the  table  with  the  caulking-mallet. 

"  And  your  head,  too,"  Del  cried,  turning  upon  him! 
"  Damn  poor  order  you  preserve.  Pocketing's  got 
nothing  to  do  with  this  here  trial,  and  why  don't  you 
shut  such  fool  questions  out?  I'll  take  care  of  you 
afterwards,  you  potwolloper !" 

"You  will,  will  you?"  The  chairman  grew  red  in 
the  face,  dropped  the  mallet,  and  sprang  to  his  feet. 

Del  stepped  forward  to  meet  him,  but  Bill  Brown 
sprang  in  between  and  held  them  apart. 

"  Order,  gentlemen,  order,"  he  begged.  "  This  is 
no  time  for  unseemly  exhibitions.  And  remember 
there  are  ladies  present." 

The  two  men  grunted  and  subsided,  and  Bill  Brown 
asked,  "  Mr.  Bishop,  we  understand  that  you  are  well 
acquainted  with  the  prisoner.  Will  you  please  tell  the 
court  what  you  know  of  his  general  character  ?" 

301 


A    DAUGHTER    OF   THE    SNOWS 

Del  broadened  into  a  smile.  "  Well,  in  the  first  place, 
he's  an  extremely  quarrelsome  disposition " 

"  Hold !  I  won't  have  it !"  The  prisoner  was  on  his 
feet,  trembling  with  anger.  "  You  shall  not  swear  my 
life  away  in  such  fashion !  To  bring  a  madman,  whom 
I  have  only  met  once  in  my  life,  to  testify  as  to  my 
character !" 

The  pocket-miner  turned  to  him.  "  So  you  don't 
know  me,  eh,  Gregory  St.  Vincent?" 

"  No,"  St.  Vincent  replied,  coldly,  "  I  do  not  know 
you,  my  man." 

"  Don't  you  man  me !"  Del  shouted,  hotly. 

But  St.  Vincent  ignored  him,  turning  to  the  crowd. 
"  I  never  saw  the  fellow  but  once  before,  and  then  for 
a  few  brief  moments  in  Dawson." 

"  You'll  remember  before  I'm  done,"  Del  sneered ; 
"  so  hold  your  hush  and  let  me  say  my  little  say.  I 
come  into  the  country  with  him  way  back  in  '84." 

St.  Vincent  regarded  him  with  sudden  interest. 

"  Yep,  Mr.  Gregory  St.  Vincent.  I  see  you  begin 
to  recollect.  I  sported  whiskers  and  my  name  was 
Brown,  Joe  Brown,  in  them  days." 

He  grinned  vindictively,  and  the  correspondent 
seemed  to  lose  all  interest. 

"  Is  it  true,  Gregory?"  Frona  whispered. 

"  I  begin  to  recognize,"  he  muttered,  slowly.  "  I 
don't  know  ....  no,  folly!  The  man  must  have 
died." 

"You  say  in  '84,  Mr.  Bishop?"  Bill  Brown 
prompted. 

"  Yep,  in  '84.  He  was  a  newspaper-man,  bound 
round  the  world  by  way  of  Alaska  and  Siberia.  I'd 
run  away  from  a  whaler  at  Sitka, — that  squares  it  with 

302 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE   SNOWS 

Brown, — and  I  engaged  with  him  for  forty  a  month 
and  found.  Well,  he  quarrelled  with  me " 

A  snicker,  beginning  from  nowhere  in  particular, 
but  passing  on  from  man  to  man  and  swelling  in  vol 
ume,  greeted  this  statement.  Even  Frona  and  Del 
himself  were  forced  to  smile,  and  the  only  sober  face 
was  the  prisoner's. 

"  But  he  quarrelled  with  Old  Andy  at  Dyea,  and 
with  Chief  George  of  the  Chilcoots,  and  the  Factor  at 
Pelly,  and  so  on  down  the  line.  He  got  us  into  no  end 
of  trouble,  and  'specially  woman-trouble.  He  was 
always  monkeying  around " 

"  Mr.  Chairman,  I  object."  Frona  stood  up,  her 
face  quite  calm  and  blood  under  control.  "  There  is 
no  necessity  for  bringing  in  the  amours  of  Mr.  St. 
Vincent.  They  have  no  bearing  whatsoever  upon  the 
case;  and,  further,  none  of  the  men  of  this  meeting 
are  clean  enough  to  be  prompted  by  the  right  motive 
in  conducting  such  an  inquiry.  So  I  demand  that  the 
prosecution  at  least  confine  itself  to  relevant  testi 
mony." 

Bill  Brown  came  up  smugly  complacent  and  smiling. 
"  Mr.  Chairman,  wre  willingly  accede  to  the  request 
made  by  the  defence.  Whatever  we  have  brought  out 
has  been  relevant  and  material.  Whatever  we  intend 
to  bring  out  shall  be  relevant  and  material.  Mr.  Bishop 
is  our  star  witness,  and  his  testimony  is  to  the  point. 
It  must  be  taken  into  consideration  that  we  nave  no 
direct  evidence  as  to  the  murder  of  John  Borg.  We 
can  bring  no  eye-witnesses  into  court.  Whatever  we 
have  is  circumstantial.  It  is  incumbent  upon  us  to 
show  cause.  To  show  cause  it  is  necessary  to  go  into 
the  character  of  the  accused.  This  we  intend  to  do. 

303 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

We  intend  to  show  his  adulterous  and  lustful  nature, 
which  has  culminated  in  a  dastardly  deed  and  jeop 
ardized  his  neck.  We  intend  to  show  that  the  truth  is 
not  in  him;  that  he  is  a  liar  beyond  price;  that  no 
word  he  may  speak  upon  the  stand  need  be  accepted 
by  a  jury  of  his  peers.  We  intend  to  show  all  this,  and 
to  weave  it  together,  thread  by  thread,  till  we  have  a 
rope  long  enough  and  strong  enough  to  hang  him  with 
before  the  day  is  done.  So  I  respectfully  submit,  Mr. 
Chairman,  that  the  witness  be  allowed  to  proceed/' 

The  chairman  decided  against  Frona,  and  her  appeal 
to  the  meeting  was  voted  down.  Bill  Brown  nodded  to 
Del  to  resume. 

"  As  I  was  saying,  he  got  us  into  no  end  of  trouble. 
Now,  I've  been  mixed  up  with  water  all  my  life, — 
never  can  get  away  from  it,  it  seems, — and  the  more 
I'm  mixed  the  less  I  know  about  it.  St.  Vincent  knew 
this,  too,  and  him  a  clever  hand  at  the  paddle ;  yet  he 
left  me  to  run  the  Box  Canyon  alone  while  he  walked 
around.  Result :  I  was  turned  over,  lost  half  the  outfit 
and  all  the  tobacco,  and  then  he  put  the  blame  on  me 
besides.  Right  after  that  he  got  tangled  up  with  the 
Lake  Le  Barge  Sticks,  and  both  of  us  came  near  croak- 
ing." 

"And  why  was  that?"  Bill  Brown  interjected. 

"  All  along  of  a  pretty  squaw  that  looked  too  kindly 
at  him.  After  we  got  clear,  I  lectured  him  on  women 
in  general  and  squaws  in  particular,  and  he  promised 
to  behave.  Then  we  had  a  hot  time  with  the  Little 
Salmons.  He  was  cuter  this  time,  and  I  didn't  -know 
for  keeps,  but  I  guessed.  He  said  it  was  the  medicine 
man  who  got  horstile ;  but  nothing'll  stir  up  a  medicine 
man  quicker'n  women,  and  the  facts  pointed  that  way 

304 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

=x;=  —  ^ 

When  I  talked  it  over  with  him  in  a  fatherly  way  he 
got  wrathy,  and  I  had  to  take  him  out  on  the  bank  and 
give  him  a  threshing.  Then  he  got  sulky,  and  didn't 
brighten  up  till  we  ran  into  the  mouth  of  the  Reindeer 
River,  where  a  camp  of  Siwashes  were  fishing  salmon. 
But  he  had  it  in  for  me  all  the  time,  only  I  didn't  know 
it, — was  ready  any  time  to  give  me  the  double  cross. 

"  Now,  there's  no  denying  he's  got  a  taking  way  with 
women.  All  he  has  to  do  is  to  whistle  'em  up  Ifke  dogs. 
Most  remarkable  faculty,  that.  There  was  the  wick 
edest,  prettiest  squaw  among  the  Reindeers.  Never 
saw  her  beat,  excepting  Bella.  Well,  I  guess  he  whis 
tled  her  up,  for  he  delayed  in  the  camp  longer  than  was 
necessary.  Being  partial  to  women " 

"  That  will  do,  Mr.  Bishop,"  interrupted  the  chair 
man,  who,  from  profitless  watching  of  Frona's  immo 
bile  face,  had  turned  to  her  hand,  the  nervous  twitch 
ing  and  clinching  of  which  revealed,  what  her  face  had 
hidden.  "  That  will  do,  Mr.  Bishop.  I  think  we  have 
had  enough  of  squaws." 

"  Pray  do  not  temper  the  testimony,"  Frona  chir 
ruped,  sweetly.  "  It  seems  very  important." 

"  Do  you  know  what  I  am  going  to  say  next  ?" 
Del  demanded  hotly  of  the  chairman.  "  You  don't, 
eh?  Then  shut  up.  I'm  running  this  particular  side 
show." 

Bill  Brown  sprang  in  to  avert  hostilities,  but  the 
chairman  restrained  himself,  and  Bishop  went  on. 

"  I'd  been  done  with  the  whole  shooting-match, 
squaws  and  all,  if  you  hadn't  broke  me  off.  Well,  as  I 
said,  he  had  it  in  for  me,  and  the  first  thing  I  didn't 
know,  he'd  hit  me  on  the  head  with  a  rifle-stock,  bun 
dled  the  squaw  into  the  canoe,  and  pulled  out.  You  all 
20  305 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

know  what  the  Yukon  country  was  in  '84.  And  there 
I  was,  without  an  outfit,  left  alone,  a  thousand  miles 
from  anywhere.  I  got  out  all  right,  though  there's  no 
need  of  telling  how,  and  so  did  he.  You've  all  heard 
of  his  adventures  in  Siberia.  Well,"  with  an  impres 
sive  pause,  "  I  happen  to  know  a  thing  or  two  myself. " 

He  shoved  a  hand  into  the  big  pocket  of  his  mack- 
inaw  jacket  and  pulled  out  a  dingy  leather-bound  vol 
ume  of  venerable  appearance. 

"  I  got  this  from  Pete  Whipple's  old  woman,— 
Whipple  of  Eldorado.  It  concerns  her  grand-uncle  or 
great-grand-uncle,  I  don't  know  which ;  and  if  there  s 
anybody  here  can  read  Russian,  why,  it'll  go  into  the 
details  of  that  Siberian  trip.  But  as  there's  no  one 
here  that  can " 

"  Courbertin!  He  can  read  it!"  some  one  called  in 
the  crowd. 

A  way  was  made  for  the  Frenchman  forthwith,  and 
he  was  pushed  and  shoved,  protestingly,  to  the  front. 

"  Savve  the  lingo?"  Del  demanded. 

"  Yes ;  but  so  poorly,  so  miserable/'  Courbertin  de 
murred.  "  It  is  a  long  time.  I  forget." 

"  Go  ahead.    We  won't  criticise." 

«  No,  but " 

"  Go  ahead !"  the  chairman  commanded. 

Del  thrust  the  book  into  his  hands,  opened  at  the 
yellow  title-page.  "  I've  been  itching  to  get  my  paws 
on  some  buck  like  you  for  months  and  months,"  he 
assured  him,  gleefully.  "  And  now  I've  got  you,  you 
can't  shake  me,  Charley.  So  fire  away." 

Courbertin  began  hesitatingly :  "  *  The  Journal  of 
Father  Yakontsk,  Comprising  an  Account  in  Brief  of 
his  Life  in  the  Benedictine  Monastery  at  Obidorsky, 

306 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE   SNOWS 

and  in  Full  of  his  Marvellous  Adventures  in  East 
Siberia  among  the  Deer  Men.' '' 

The  baron  looked  up  for  instructions. 

"  Tell  us  when  it  was  printed,"  Del  ordered  him. 

"  In  Warsaw,  1807." 

The  pocket-miner  turned  triumphantly  to  the  room. 
"  Did  you  hear  that?  Just  keep  track  of  it.  1807,  re 
member  !" 

The  baron  took  up  the  opening  paragraph.  " '  It 
was  because  of  Tamerlane,3 "  he  commenced,  uncon 
sciously  putting  his  translation  into  a  construction  with 
which  he  was  already  familiar. 

At  his  first  words  Frona  turned  white,  and  she  re 
mained  white  throughout  the  reading.  Once  she  stole 
a  glance  at  her  father,  and  was  glad  that  he  was  look 
ing  straight  before  him,  for  she  did  not  feel  able  to 
meet  his  gaze  just  them.  On  the  other  hand,  though 
she  knew  St.  Vincent  was  eying  her  narrowly,  she  took 
no  notice  of  him,  and  all  he  could  see  was  a  white  face 
devoid  of  expression. 

'  When  Tamerlane  swept  with  fire  and  sword  over 
Eastern  Asia' "  Courbertin  read  slowly,  " ' states  were 
disrupted,  cities  overthrown,  and  tribes  scattered  like 
— like  star-dust.  A  vast  people  was  hurled  broad 
cast  over  the  land.  Fleeing  before  the  conquerors' — 
no,  no, — '  before  the  mad  lust  of  the  conquerors,  these 
refugees  swung  far  into  Siberia,  circling,  circling  to 
the  north  and  east  and  fringing  the  rim  of  the  polar 
basin  with  a  spray  of  Mongol  tribes.' " 

"  Skip  a  few  pages,"  Bill  Brown  advised,  "  and  read 
here  and  there.  We  haven't  got  all  night." 

Courbertin  complied.  " '  The  coast  people  are  Es 
kimo  stock,  merry  of  nature  and  not  offensive.  They 

307 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE   SNOWS 

call  themselves  the  Oukilion,  or  the  Sea  Men.  From 
them  I  bought  dogs  and  food.  But  they  are  subject 
to  the  Chow  Chuen,  who  live  in  the  interior  and  are 
known  as  the  Deer  Men.  The  Chow  Chuen  are  a 
•fierce  and  savage  race.  When  I  left  the  coast  they 
fell  upon  me,  took  from  me  my  goods,  and  made  me 
a  slave.' ''  He  ran  over  a  few  pages.  " '  /  worked 
my  way  to  a  seat  among  the  head  men,  but  I  was  no 
nearer  my  freedom.  My  wisdom  was  of  too  great 
value  to  them  for  me  to  depart.  .  .  .  Old  Pi-Une  was 
a  great  chief,  and  it  was  decreed  that  I  should  marry 
his  daughter  Ilswunga.  Ilswunga  was  a  filthy  crea 
ture.  She  would  not  bathe,  and  her  ways  were  not 
good.  .  .  .  I  did  marry  Ilswunga,  but  she  was  a  wife 
to  me  only  in  name.  Then  did  she  complain  to  her 
father,,  the  old  Pi-Une,  and  he  was  very  wroth.  And 
dissension  was  sown  among  the  tribes;  but  in  the  end 
I  became  mightier  than  ever,  what  of  my  cunning  and 
resource;  and  Ilswunga  made  no  more  complaint,  for 
I  taught  her  games  with  cards  which  she  might  play 
by  herself,  and  other  things! '' 

"  Is  that  enough  ?"  Courbertin  asked. 

"  Yes,  that  will  do,"  Bill  Brown  answered.  "  But 
one  moment.  Please  state  again  the  date  of  publica 
tion." 

"  1807,  in  Warsaw." 

"  Hold  on,  baron,"  Del  Bishop  spoke  up.  "  Now 
that  you're  on  the  stand,  I've  got  a  question  or  so  to 
slap  into  you."  He  turned  to  the  court-room.  "  Gen 
tlemen,  you've  all.  heard  somewhat  of  the  prisoner's 
experiences  in  Siberia.  You've  caught  on  to  the  re 
markable  sameness  between  them  and  those  published 
by  Father  Yakontsk  nearly  a  hundred  years  ago.  And 

308 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

you  have  concluded  that  there's  been  some  wholesale 
cribbing  somewhere.  I  propose  to  show  you  that  it's 
more  than  cribbing.  The  prisoner  gave  me  the  shake 
on  the  Reindeer  River  in  '88.  Fall  of  '88  he  was  at 
St.  Michael's  on  his  way  to  Siberia.  '89  and  '90  he 
was,  by  his  talk,  cutting  up  antics  in  Siberia.  '91  he 
come  back  to  the  world,  working  the  conquering-hero 
graft  in  'Frisco.  Now  let's  see  if  the  Frenchman  can 
make  us  wise. 

"  You  were  in  Japan  ?"  he  asked. 

Courbertin,  who  had  followed  the  dates,  made  a 
quick  calculation,  and  could  but  illy  conceal  his  sur 
prise.  He  looked  appealingly  to  Frona,  but  she  did 
not  help  him.  "  Yes,"  he  said,  finally. 

"  And  you  met  the  prisoner  there  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"What  year  was  it?" 

There  was  a  general  craning  forward  to  catch  the 
answer. 

"  1889,"  and  it  came  unwillingly. 

"  Now,  how  can  that  be,  baron  ?"  Del  asked  in  a 
wheedling  tone.  "  The  prisoner  was  in  Siberia  at 
that  time." 

Courbertin  shrugged  his  shoulders  that  it  was  no 
concern  of  his,  and  came  off  the  stand.  An  impromptu 
recess  was  taken  by  the  court-room  for  several  min 
utes,  wherein  there  was  much  whispering  and  shaking 
of  heads. 

"  It  is  all  a  lie."  St.  Vincent  leaned  close  to  Frona's 
ear,  but  she  did  not  hear. 

"  Appearances  are  against  me,  but  I  can  explain 
it  all." 

But  she  did  not  move  a  muscle,  and  he  was  called 
309 


A   DAUGHTER   OF  THE   SNOWS 

to  the  stand  by  the  chairman.  She  turned  to  her 
father,  and  the  tears  rushed  up  into  her  eyes  when  he 
rested  his  hand  on  hers. 

"  Do  you  care  to  pull  out  ?"  he  asked  after  a  mo 
mentary  hesitation. 

She  shook  her  head,  and  St.  Vincent  began  to  speak. 
It  was  the  same  story  he  had  told  her,  though  told  now 
a  little  more  fully,  and  in  nowise  did  it  conflict  with 
the  evidence  of  La  Flitche  and  John.  He  acknowl 
edged  the  wash-tub  incident,  caused,  he  explained,  by 
an  act  of  simple  courtesy  on  his  part  and  by  John 
Borg's  unreasoning  anger.  He  acknowledged  that 
Bella  had  been  killed  by  his  own  pistol,  but  stated  that 
the  pistol  had  been  borrowed  by  Borg  several  days 
previously  and  not  returned.  Concerning  Bella's  accu 
sation  he  could  say  nothing.  He  could  not  see  why 
she  should  die  with  a  lie  on  her  lips.  He  had  never  in 
the  slightest  way  incurred  her  displeasure,  so  even 
revenge  could  not  be  advanced.  It  was  inexplicable. 
As  for  the  testimony  of  Bishop,  he  did  not  care  to 
discuss  it.  It  was  a  tissue  of  falsehood  cunningly  in 
terwoven  with  truth.  It  was  true  the  man  had  gone 
into  Alaska  with  him  in  1888,  but  his  version  of  the 
things  which  happened  there  was  maliciously  untrue. 
Regarding  the  baron,  there  was  a  slight  mistake  in  the 
dates,  that  was  all. 

In  questioning  him,  Bill  Brown  brought  out  one 
little  surprise.  From  the  prisoner's  story,  he  had  made 
a  hard  fight  against  the  two  mysterious  men.  "  If,'" 
Brown  asked,  "  such  were  the  case,  how  can  you  ex 
plain  away  the  fact  that  you  came  out  of  the  struggle 
unmarked?  On  examination  of  the  body  of  John 
Borg,  many  bruises  and  contusions  were  noticeable. 

310 


A   DAUGHTER   OF  THE   SNOWS 

How  is  it,  if  you  put  up  such  a  stiff  fight,  that  you 
escaped  being  battered?" 

St.  Vincent  did  not  know,  though  he  confessed  to 
feeling  stiff  and  sore  all  over.  And  it  did  not  matter, 
anyway.  He  had  killed  neither  Borg  nor  his  wife, 
that  much  he  did  know. 

Frona  prefaced  her  argument  to  the  meeting  with 
a  pithy  discourse  on  the  sacredness  of  human  life,  the 
weaknesses  and  dangers  of  circumstantial  evidence, 
and  the  rights  of  the  accused  wherever  doubt  arose. 
Then  she  plunged  into  the  evidence,  stripping  off  the 
superfluous  and  striving  to  confine  herself  to  facts. 
In  the  first  place,  she  denied  that  a  motive  for  the  deed 
had  been  shown.  As  it  was,  the  introduction  of  such 
evidence  was  an  insult  to  their  intelligence,  and  she 
had  sufficient  faith  in  their  manhood  and  perspicacity 
to  know  that  such  puerility  would  not  sway  them  in 
the  verdict  they  were  to  give. 

And,  on  the  other  hand,  in  dealing  with  the  particu 
lar  points  at  issue,  she  denied  that  any  intimacy  had 
been  shown  to  have  existed  between  Bella  and  St.  Vin 
cent;  and  she  denied,  further,  that  it  had  been  shown 
that  any  intimacy  had  been  attempted  on  the  part  of 
St.  Vincent.  Viewed  honestly,  the  wash-tub  incident 
— the  only  evidence  brought  forward — was  a  laugh 
able  little  affair,  portraying  how  the  simple  courtesy 
of  a  gentleman  might  be  misunderstood  by  a  mad  boor 
of  a  husband.  She  left  it  to  their  common  sense ;  they 
were  not  fools. 

They  had  striven  to  prove  the  prisoner  bad-tem 
pered.  She  did  not  need  to  prove  anything  of  the  sort 
concerning  John  Borg.  They  all  knew  his  terrible 
fits  of  anger;  they  all  knew  that  his  temper  was  pro- 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

verbial  in  the  community;  that  it  had  prevented  him 
having  friends  and  had  made  him  many  enemies. 
Was  it  not  very  probable,  therefore,  that  the  masked 
men  were  two  such  enemies?  As  to  what  particular 
motive  actuated  these  two  men,  she  could  not  say; 
but  it  rested  with  them,  the  judges,  to  know  whether 
in  all  Alaska  there  were  or  were  not  two  men  whom 
John  Borg  could  have  given  cause  sufficient  for  them 
to  take  his  life. 

Witness  had  testified  that  no  traces  had  been  found 
of  these  two  men;  but  the  witness  had  not  testified 
that  no  traces  had  been  found  of  St.  Vincent,  Pierre 
La  Flitche,  or  John  the  Swede.  And  there  was  no 
need  for  them  so  to  testify.  Everybody  knew  that  no 
foot-marks  were  left  when  St.  Vincent  ran  up  the 
trail,  and  when  he  came  back  with  La  Flitche  and  the 
other  man.  Everybody  knew  the  condition  of  the  trail, 
that  it  was  a  hard-packed  groove  in  the  ground,  on 
which  a  soft  moccasin  could  leave  no  impression ;  and 
that  had  the  ice  not  gone  down  the  river,  no  traces 
would  have  been  left  by  the  murderers  in  passing 
from  and  to  the  mainland. 

At  this  juncture  La  Flitche  nodded  his  head  in  ap 
probation,  and  she  went  on. 

Capital  had  been  made  out  of  the  blood  on  St.  Vin 
cent's  hands.  If  they  chose  to  examine  the  moccasins 
at  that  moment  on  the  feet  of  Mr.  La  Flitche,  they 
would  also  find  blood.  That  did  not  argue  that  Mr. 
La  Flitche  had  been  a  party  to  the  shedding  of  the 
blood. 

Mr.  Brown  had  drawn  attention  to  the  fact  that  the 
prisoner  had  not  been  bruised  or  marked  in  the  savage 
encounter  which  had  taken  place.  She  thanked  him 

312 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

for  having  done  so.  John  Borg's  body  showed  that  it 
had  been  roughly  used.  He  was  a  larger,  stronger, 
heavier  man  than  St.  Vincent.  If,  as  charged,  St. 
Vincent  had  committed  the  murder,  and  necessarily, 
therefore,  engaged  in  a  struggle  severe  enough  to 
bruise  John  Borg,  how  was  it  that  he  had  come  out 
unharmed?  That  was  a  point  worthy  of  considera 
tion. 

Another  one  was,  why  did  he  run  down  the  trail? 
It  was  inconceivable,  if  he  had  committed  the  murder, 
that  he  should,  without  dressing  or  preparation  for 
escape,  run  towards  the  other  cabins.  It  was,  how 
ever,  easily  conceivable  that  he  should  take  up  the 
pursuit  of  the  real  murderers,  and  in  the  darkness — 
exhausted,  breathless,  and  certainly  somewhat  excited 
—run  blindly  down  the  trail. 

Her  summing  up  was  a  strong  piece  of  synthesis; 
and  when  she  had  done,  the  meeting  applauded  her 
roundly.  But  she  was  angry  and  hurt,  for  she  knew 
the  demonstration  was  for  her  sex  rather  than  for  her 
cause  and  the  work  she  had  done. 

Bill  Brown,  somewhat  of  a  shyster,  and  his  ear  ever 
cocked  to  the  crowd,  was  not  above  taking  advantage 
when  opportunity  offered,  and  when  it  did  not  offer,  to 
dogmatize  artfully.  In  this  his  native  humor  was  a 
strong  factor,  and  when  he  had  finished  with  the  mys 
terious  masked  men  they  were  as  exploded  sun-myths, 
— which  phrase  he  promptly  applied  to  them. 

They  could  not  have  got  off  the  island.  The  condi 
tion  of  the  ice  for  the  three  or  four  hours  preceding 
the  break-up  would  not  have  permitted  it.  The  pris 
oner  had  implicated  none  of  the  residents  of  the  island, 
while  every  one  of  them,  with  the  exception  of  the 

313 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

prisoner,  had  been  accounted  for  elsewhere.  Possibly 
the  prisoner  was  excited  when  he  ran  down  the  trail 
into  the  arms  of  La  Flitche  and  John  the  Swede.  One 
should  have  thought,  however,  that  he  had  grown 
used  to  such  things  in  Siberia.  But  that  was  imma 
terial  ;  the  facts  were  that  he  was  undoubtedly  in  an 
abnormal  state  of  excitement,  that  he  was  hysterically 
excited,  and  that  a  murderer  under  such  circumstances 
would  take  little  account  of  where  he  ran.  Such  things 
had  happened  before.  Many  a  man  had  butted  into 
his  own  retribution. 

In  the  matter  of  the  relations  of  Borg,  Bella,  and 
St.  Vincent,  he  made  a  strong  appeal  to  the  instinctive 
prejudices  of  his  listeners,  and  for  the  time  being 
abandoned  matter-of-fact  reasoning  for  all-potent  sen 
timental  platitudes.  He  granted  that  circumstantial 
evidence  never  proved  anything  absolutely.  It  was 
not  necessary  it  should.  Beyond  the  shadow  of  a  rea 
sonable  doubt  was  all  that  was  required.  That  this 
had  been  done,  he  went  on  to  review  the  testimony. 

"  And,  finally,"  he  said,  "  you  can't  get  around 
Bella's  last  words.  We  know  nothing  of  our  own 
direct  knowledge.  We've  been  feeling  around  in  the 
dark,  clutching  at  little  things,  and  trying  to  figure  it 
all  out.  But,  gentlemen,"  he  paused  to  search  the 
faces  of  his  listeners,  "  Bella  knew  the  truth.  Hers  is 
no  circumstantial  evidence.  With  quick,  anguished 
breath,  and  life-blood  ebbing  from  her,  and  eyeballs 
glazing,  she  spoke  the  truth.  With  dark  night  coming 
on,  and  the  death-rattle  in  her  throat,  she  raised  her 
self  weakly  and  pointed  a  shaking  ringer  at  the  ac 
cused,  thus,  and  she  said,  '  Him,  him,  him.  St.  Vincha, 
him  do  it.' " 

314 


A   DAUGHTER   OF  THE   SNOWS 

With  Bill  Brown's  finger  still  boring  into  him,  St. 
Vincent  struggled  to  his  feet.  His  face  looked  old  and 
gray,  and  he  looked  about  him  speechlessly.  "  Funk ! 
Funk!"  was  whispered  back  and  forth,  and  not  so 
softly  but  what  he  heard.  He  moistened  his  lips  re 
peatedly,  and  his  tongue  fought  for  articulation.  "  It 
is  as  I  have  said,"  he  succeeded,  finally.  "  I  did  not 
do  it.  Before  God,  I  did  not  do  it !"  He  stared  fixedly 
at  John  the  Swede,  waiting  the  while  on  his  laggard 
thought.  "  I  .  .  .  .  1  did  not  do  it  .  .  .  .1  did  not 
....  I  ....  I  did  not." 

He  seemed  to  have  become  lost  in  some  supreme 
meditation  wherein  John  the  Swede  figured  largely, 
and  as  Frona  caught  him  by  the  hand  and  .pulled  him 
gently  down,  some  man  cried  out,  "  Secret  ballot !" 

But  Bill  Brown  was  on  his  feet  at  once.  "  No !  I 
say  no!  An  open  ballot!  We  are  men,  and  as  men 
are  not  afraid  to  put  ourselves  on  record." 

A  chorus  of  approval  greeted  him,  and  the  open 
ballot  began.  Man  after  man,  called  upon  by  name, 
spoke  the  one  word,  "  Guilty." 

Baron  Courbertin  came  forward  and  whispered  to 
Frona.  She  nodded  her  head  and  smiled,  and  he 
edged  his  way  back,  taking  up  a  position  by  the  door. 
He  voted  "  Not  guilty"  when  his  turn  came,  as  did 
Frona  and  Jacob  Welse.  Pierre  La  Flitche  wavered 
a  moment,  looking  keenly  at  Frona  and  St.  Vincent, 
then  spoke  up,  clear  and  flute-like,  "  Guilty." 

As  the  chairman  arose,  Jacob  Welse  casually  walked 
over  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  table  and  stood  with 
his  back  to  the  stove.  Courbertin,  who  had  missed 
nothing,  pulled  a  pickle-keg  out  from  the  wall  and 
stepped  upon  it. 

3i5 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

The  chairman   cleared  his  throat  and  rapped   for 
order.       "  Gentlemen,"    he    announced,     "  the    pris- 


"  Hands  up !"  Jacob  Welse  commanded  peremp 
torily,  and  a  fraction  of  a  second  after  him  came  the 
shrill  "  Hands  up,  gentlemen !"  of  Courbertin. 

Front  and  rear  they  commanded  the  crowd  with  their 
revolvers.  Every  hand  was  in  the  air,  the  chairman's 
having  gone  up  still  grasping  the  mallet.  There  was 
no  disturbance.  Each  stood  or  sat  in  the  same  posture 
as  when  the  command  went  forth.  Their  eyes,  playing 
here  and  there  among  the  central  figures,  always  re 
turned  to  Jacob  Welse. 

St.  Vincent  sat  as  one  dumfounded.  Frona  thrust  a 
revolver  into  his  hand,  but  his  limp  fingers  refused  to 
close  on  it. 

"  Come,  Gregory/'  she  entreated.  "  Quick !  Corliss 
is  waiting  with  the  canoe.  Come !" 

She  shook  him,  and  he  managed  to  grip  the  weapon. 
Then  she  pulled  and  tugged,  as  when  awakening  a 
heavy  sleeper,  till  he  was  on  his  feet.  But  his  face  was 
livid,  his  eyes  like  a  somnambulist's,  and  he  was 
afflicted  as  with  a  palsy.  Still  holding  him,  she  took 
a  step  backward  for  him  to  come  on.  He  ventured  it 
with  a  shaking  knee.  There  was  no  sound  save  the 
heavy  breathing  of  many  men.  A  man  coughed 
slightly  and  cleared  his  throat.  It  was  disquieting, 
and  all  eyes  centred  upon  him  rebukingly.  The  man 
became  embarrassed,  and  shifted  his  weight  uneasily 
to  the  other  leg.  Then  the  heavy  breathing  settled 
down  again. 

St.  Vincent  took  another  step,  but  his  fingers  re 
laxed  and  the  revolver  fell  with  a  loud  noise  to  the 

316 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE   SNOWS 

floor.  He  made  no  effort  to  recover  it.  Frona  stooped 
hurriedly,  but  Pierre  La  Flitche  had  set  his  foot  upon 
it.  She  looked  up  and  saw  his  hands  above  his  head 
and  his  eyes  fixed  absently  on  Jacob  Welse.  She 
pushed  at  his  leg,  and  the  muscles  were  tense  and  hard, 
giving  the  lie  to  the  indifference  on  his  face.  St.  Vin 
cent  looked  down  helplessly,  as  though  he  could  not 
understand. 

But  this  delay  drew  the  attention  of  Jacob  Welse, 
and,  as  he  tried  to  make  out  the  cause,  the  chairman 
found  his  chance.  Without  crooking,  his  right  arm 
swept  out  and  down,  the  heavy  caulking-mallet  leap 
ing  from  his  hand.  It  spanned  the  short  distance  and 
smote  Jacob  Welse  below  the  ear.  His  revolver  went 
off  as  lie  fell,  and  John  the  Swede  grunted  and  clapped 
a  hand  to  his  thigh. 

Simultaneous  with  this  the  baron  was  overcome. 
Del  Bishop,  with  hands  still  above  his  head  and  eyes 
fixed  innocently  before  him,  had  simply  kicked  the 
pickle-keg  out  from  under  the  Frenchman  and 
brought  him  to  the  floor.  His  bullet,  however,  sped 
harmlessly  through  the  roof.  La  Flitche  seized  Frona 
in  his  arms.  St.  Vincent,  suddenly  awakening,  sprang 
for  the  door,  but  was  tripped  up  by  the  breed's  ready 
foot. 

The  chairman  pounded  the  table  with  his  Bst  and 
concluded  his  broken  sentence,  "  Gentlemen,  the  pris 
oner  is  found  guilty  as  charged." 


CHAPTER  XXIX 


FRONA  had  gone  at  once  to  her  father's  side,  but  he 
was  already  recovering.  Courbertin  was  brought  for 
ward  with  a  scratched  face,  sprained  wrist,  and  an 
insubordinate  tongue.  To  prevent  discussion  and  to 
save  time,  Bill  Brown  claimed  the  floor. 

"  Mr.  Chairman,  while  we  condemn  the  attempt  on 
the  part  of  Jacob  Welse,  Frona  Welse,  and  Baron 
Courbertin  to  rescue  the  prisoner  and  thwart  justice, 
we  cannot,  under  the  circumstances,  but  sympathize 
with  them.  There  is  no  need  that  I  should  go  further 
into  this  matter./  You  all  know,  and  doubtless,  under 
a  like  situation,  would  have  done  the  same.  And  so, 
in  order  that  we  may  expeditiously  finish  the  business, 
I  make  a  motion  to  disarm  the  three  prisoners  and  let 
them  go." 

The  motion  was  carried,  and  the  two  men  searched 
for  weapons.  Frona  was  saved  this  by  giving  her 
word  that  she  was  no  longer  armed.  The  meeting 
then  resolved  itself  into  a  hanging  committee,  and 
began  to  file  out  of  the  cabin. 

"  Sorry  I  had  to  do  it,"  the  chairman  said,  half- 
apologetically,  half -defiantly. . 

Jacob  Welse  smiled.  "  You  took  your  chance,"  he 
answered,  "  and  I  can't  blame  you.  I  only  wish  I'd 
got  you,  though." 

Excited  voices  arose  from  across  the  cabin.    "  Here, 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

you !    Leggo !"    "  Step  on  his  fingers,  Tim !"    "  Break 
that  grip !"    "  Ouch !    Ow !"    "  Pry  his  mouth  open P 

Frona  saw  a  knot  of  struggling  men  about  St.  Vin 
cent,  and  ran  over.  He  had  thrown  himself  down  qp 
the  floor  and,  tooth  and  nail,  was  fighting  like  a  mad 
man.  Tim  Dugan,  a  stalwart  Celt,  had  come  to  close 
quarters  with  him,  and  St.  Vincent's  teeth  were  sunk 
in  the  man's  arm. 

"  Smash  'm,  Tim !    Smash  'm !" 

"  How  can  I,  ye  f ule  ?  Get  a  pry  on  his  mouth, 
will  ye?" 

"  One  moment,  please."  The  men  made  way  for 
her,  drawing  back  and  leaving  St.  Vincent  and  Tim. 

Frona  knelt  down  by  him.  "  Leave  go,  Gregory. 
Do  leave  go." 

He  looked  up  at  her,  and  his  eyes  did  not  seem 
human.  He  breathed  stertorously,  and  in  his  throat 
were  the  queer  little  gasping  noises  of  one  over 
wrought. 

"  It  is  I,  Gregory."  She  brushed  her  hand  sooth 
ingly  across  his  brow.  "  Don't  you  understand  ?  It 
is  I,  Frona.  Do  leave  go." 

His  whole  body  slowly  relaxed,  and  a  peaceful  ex 
pression  grew  upon  his  face.  His  jaw  dropped,  and 
the  man's  arm  was  withdrawn. 

"  Now  listen,  Gregory.    Though  you  are  to  die " 

"But  I  cannot!  I  cannot!"  he  groaned.  "You 
said  that  I  could  trust  to  you,  that  all  would  come 
well." 

She  thought  of  the  chance  which  had  been  given, 
but  s.'vid  nothing. 

"  (  h,  Frona !  Frona  P  He  sobbed  and  buried  his 
face  in  her  lap. 

319 


A   DAUGHTER    OF   THE    SNOWS 

"  At  least  you  can  be  a  man.  It  is  all  that  re 
mains." 

"  Come  on !"  Tim  Dugan  commanded.  "  Sorry  to 
bother  ye,  miss,  but  we've  got  to  fetch  'm  along.  Drag 
'm  out,  you  fellys !  Catch  'm  by  the  legs,  Blackey,  and 
you,  too,  Johnson." 

St.  Vincent's  body  stiffened  at  the  words,  the 
rational  gleam  went  out  of  his  eyes,  and  his  fingers 
closed  spasmodically  on  Frona's.  She  looked  entreaty 
at  the  men,  and  they  hesitated. 

"  Give  me  a  minute  with  him,"  she  begged,  "  just  a 
minute." 

"  He  ain't  worth  it,"  Dugan  sneered,  after  they  had 
drawn  apart.  "  Look  at  'm." 

"  It's  a  damned  shame,"  corroborated  Blackey, 
squinting  sidewise  at  Frona  whispering  in  St.  Vin 
cent's  ear,  the  while  her  hand  wandered  caressingly 
through  his  hair. 

What  she  said  they  did  not  hear,  but  she  got  him  on 
his  feet  and  led  him  forward.  He  walked  as  a  dead 
man  might  walk,  and  when  he  entered  the  open  air 
gazed  forth  wonderingly  upon  the  muddy  sweep  of  the 
Yukon.  The  crowd  had  formed  by  the  bank,  about  a 
pine  tree.  A  boy,  engaged  in  running  a  rope  over  one 
of  the  branches,  finished  his  task  and  slid  down  the 
trunk  to  the  ground.  He  looked  quickly  at  the  palms 
of  his  hands  and  blew  upon  them,  and  a  laugh  went 
up.  A  couple  of  wolf-dogs,  on  the  outskirts,  bristled 
up  to  each  other  and  bared  their  fangs.  Men  encour 
aged  them.  They  closed  in  and  rolled  over,  but  were 
kicked  aside  to  make  room  for  St.  Vincent. 

Corliss  came  up  the  bank  to  Frona.  "  What's  to?" 
he  whispered.  "Is  it  off?" 

320 


A  DAUGHTER   OF  THE   SNOWS 

She  tried  to  speak,  but  swallowed  and  nodded  her 
head. 

"  This  way,  Gregory."  She  touched  his  arm  and 
guided  him  to  the  box  beneath  the  rope. 

Corliss,  keeping  step  with  them,  looked  over  the 
crowd  speculatively  and  felt  into  his  jacket-pocket. 
"  Can  I  do  anything?"  he  asked,  gnawing  his  under 
lip  impatiently.  "  Whatever  you  say  goes,  Frona.  I 
can  stand  them  off." 

She  looked  at  him,  aware  of  pleasure  in  the  sight. 
She  knew  he  would  dare  it,  but  she  knew  also  that  it 
would  be  unfair.  St.  Vincent  had  had  his  chance,  and 
it  was  not  right  that  further  sacrifice  should  be  made. 
"  No,  Vance.  It  is  too  late.  Nothing  can  be  done." 

"  At  least  let  me  try,"  he  persisted. 

"  No ;  it  is  not  our  fault  that  our  plan  failed,  and 
,.  ...  and  .  ..."  Her  eyes  rilled.  "  Please  do  not 
ask  it  of  me." 

!<  Then  let  me  take  you  away.  You  cannot  remain 
here." 

"  I  must,"  she  answered,  simply,  and  turned  to  St. 
Vincent,  who  seemed  dreaming. 

Blackey  was  tying  the  hangman's  knot  in  the  rope's 
end,  preparatory  to  slipping  the  noose  over  St.  Vin 
cent's  head. 

"  Kiss  me,  Gregory,"  she  said,  her  hand  on  his  arm. 

He  started  at  the  touch,  and  saw  all  eager  eyes  cen 
tred  upon  him,  and  the  yellow  noose,  just  shaped,  in 
the  hands  of  the  hangman.  He  threw  up  his  arms,  as 
though  to  ward  it  off,  and  cried  loudly,  "  No !  no ! 
Let  me  confess!  Let  me  tell  the  truth,  then  you'll 
believe  me !" 

Bill  Brown  and  the  chairman  shoved  Blackey  back, 
21  321 


A   DAUGHTER   OF  THE   SNOWS 

and  the  crowd  gathered  in.  Cries  and  protestations 
rose  from  its  midst.  "  No,  you  don't,"  a  boy's  shrill 
voice  made  itself  heard.  "  I'm  not  going  to  go.  I 
climbed  the  tree  and  made  the  rope  fast,  and  I've  got 
a  right  to  stay."  "  You're  only  a  kid,"  replied  a  man's 
voice,  "  and  it  ain't  good  for  you."  "  I  don't  care,  and 
I'm  not  a  kid.  I'm — I'm  used  to  such  things.  And, 
anyway,  I  climbed  the  tree.  Look  at  my  hands."  "  Of 
course  he  can  stay,"  other  voices  took  up  the  trouble. 
"Leave  him  alone,  Curley."  "You  ain't  the  whole 
thing."  A  laugh  greeted  this,  and  things  quieted 
down. 

"  Silence !"  the  chairman  called,  and  then  to  St. 
Vincent,  "  Go  ahead,  you,  and  don't  take  all  day 
about  it." 

"  Give  us  a  chance  to  hear !"  the  crowd  broke  out 
again.  "  Put  'm  on  the  box !  Put  'm  on  the  box !" 

St.  Vincent  was  helped  up,  and  began  with  eager 
volubility. 

"  I  didn't  do  it,  but  I  saw  it  done.  There  weren't 
two  men — only  one.  He  did  it,  and  Bella  helped  him." 

A  wave  of  laughter  drowned  him  out. 

"  Not  so  fast,"  Bill  Brown  cautioned  him.  "  Kindly 
explain  how  Bella  helped  this  man  kill  herself.  Begin 
at  the  beginning." 

"  That  night,  before  he  turned  in,  Borg  set  his 
burglar  alarm " 

"Burglar  alarm?" 

"  That's  what  I  called  it, — a  tin  bread-pan  attached 
to  the  latch  so  the  door  couldn't  open  without  tumbling 
it  down.  He  set  it  every  night,  as  though  he  were 
afraid  of  what  might  happen, — the  very  thing  which 
did  happen,  for  that  matter.  On  the  night  of  the 

322 


A   DAUGHTER   OF  THE   SNOWS 

murder  I  awoke  with  the  feeling  that  some  one  was 
moving  around.  The  slush-lamp  was  burning  low, 
and  I  saw  Bella  at  the  door.  Borg  was  snoring;  I 
could  hear  him  plainly.  Bella  was  taking  down  the 
bread-pan,  and  she  exercised  great  care  about  it. 
Then  she  opened  the  door,  and  an  Indian  came  in 
softly.  He  had  no  mask,  and  I  should  know  him  if 
ever  I  see  him  again,  for  a  scar  ran  along  the  forehead 
and  down  over  one  eye." 

"  I  suppose  you  sprang  out  of  bed  and  gave  the 
alarm?" 

"o,  I  didn't,"  St.  Vincent  answered,  with  a  defiant 
tcss  of  the  head,  as  though  he  might  as  well  get  the 
worst  over  with.  "  I  just  lay  there  and  waited." 

"What  did  you  think?" 

"  That  Bella  was  in  collusion  with  the  Indian,  and 
that  Borg  was  to  be  murdered.  It  came  to  me  at 
once." 

"And  you  did  nothing?" 

"  Nothing,"  His  voice  sank,  and  his  eyes  dropped 
to  Frona,  leaning  against  the  box  beneath  him  and 
steadying  it.  She  did  not  seem  to  be  affected.  "  Bella 
came  over  to  me,  but  I  closed  my  eyes  and  breathed 
regularly.  She  held  the  slush-lamp  to  me,  but  I  played 
sleep  naturally  enough  to  fool  her.  Then  I  heard  a 
snort  of  sudden  awakening  and  alarm,  and  a  cry,  and  I 
looked  out.  The  Indian  was  hacking  at  Borg  with  a 
knife,  and  Borg  was  warding  off  with  his  arms  and 
trying  to  grapple  him.  When  they  did  grapple,  Bella 
crept  up  from  behind  and  threw  her  arm  in  a  strangle 
hold  about  her  husband's  neck.  She  put  her  knee 
into  the  small  of  his  back,  and  bent  him  backward  and, 
>vith  the  Indian  helping,  threw  him  to  the  floor.1' 

323 


A   DAUGHTER   OF  THE   SNOWS 

"  And  what  did  you  do?" 

"  I  watched." 

"  Had  you  a  revolver  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  The  one  you  previously  ggjd  John  Borg  had  bor 
rowed?" 

"Yes;  but  I  watched/5 

"  Did  John  Borg  call  for  help?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Can  you  give  his  words  ?" 

"He  called,  'St.  Vincent!  Oh,  St.  Vincent!  Oh, 
my  God !  Oh,  St.  Vincent,  help  me !'  "  He  shuddered 
at  the  recollection,  and  added,  "  It  was  terrible." 

"  I  should  say  so,"  Brown  grunted.    "  And  you  ?" 

"  I  watched,"  was  the  dogged  reply,  while  a  groan 
went  up  from  the  crowd.  "  Borg  shook  clear  of  them, 
however,  and  got  on  his  legs.  He  hurled  Bella  across 
the  cabin  with  a  back-sweep  of  the  arm  and  turned 
upon  the  Indian.  Then  they  fought.  The  Indian  had 
dropped  the  knife,  and  the  sound  of  Borg's  blows  was 
sickening.  I  thought  he  would  surely  beat  the  Indian 
to  death.  That  was  when  the  furniture  was  smashed. 
They  rolled  and  snarled  and  struggled  like  wilcl  beasts. 
I  wondered  the  Indian's  chest  did  not  cave  in  under 
some  of  Borg's  blows.  But  Bella  got  the  knife  and 
stabbed  her  husband  repeatedly  about  the  body.  The 
Indian  had  clinched  with  him,  and  his  arms  were  not 
free ;  so  he  kicked  out  at  her  sideways.  He  must  have 
broken  her  legs,  for  she  cried  out  and  fell  down,  and 
though  she  tried,  she  never  stood  up  again.  Then  he 
went  down,  with  the  Indbn  under  him,  across  the 
stove." 

"Did  he  call  any  more  foi  help?" 
324 


A  DAUGHTER   OF  THE   SNOWS 

"  He  begged  me  to  come  to  him." 

"And?" 

"  I  watched.  He  managed  to  get  clear  of  the  In 
dian  and  staggered  over  to  me.  He  was  streaming 
blood,  and  I  could  see  he  was  very  weak.  '  Give  me 
your  gun/  he  said ; '  quick,  give  me  it.'  He  felt  around 
blindly.  Then  his  mind  seemed  to  clear  a  bit,  and  he 
reached  across  me  to  the  holster  hanging  on  the  wall 
and  took  the  pistol.  The  Indian  came  at  him  with  the 
knife  again,  but  he  did  not  try  to  defend  himself. 
Instead,  he  went  on  towards  Bella,  with  the  Indian 
stiil  hanging  to  him  and  hacking  at  him.  The  Indian 
seemed  to  bother  and  irritate  him,  and  he  shoved  him 
away.  He  knelt  down  and  turned  Bella's  face  up  to 
the  light;  but  his  own  face  was  covered  with  blood 
and  he  could  not  see.  So  he  stopped  long  enough  to 
brush  the  blood  from  his  eyes.  He  appeared  to  look 
in  order  to  make  sure.  Then  he  put  the  revolver  to 
her  breast  and  fired. 

"  The  Indian  went  wild  at  this,  and  rushed  at  him 
with  the  knife,  at  the  same  time  knocking  the  pistol 
out  of  his  hand.  It  was  then  the  shelf  with  the  slush- 
lamp  was  knocked  down.  They  continued  to  fight  in 
the  darkness,  and  there  were  more  shots  fired,  though 
I  do  not  know  by  whom.  I  crawled  out  of  the  bunk, 
but.  they  struck  against  me  in  their  struggles,  and  I  fell 
over  Bella.  That's  when  the  blood  got  on  my  hands. 
As  I  ran  out  the  door,  more  shots  were  fired.  Then  I 
met  La  Flitche  and  John,  and  ....  and  you  knpw 
the  rest.  This  is  the  truth  I  have  told  you,  I  swear  it !" 

He  looked  down  at  Frona.  She  was  steadying  the 
box,  and  her  face  was  composed.  He  looked  out  over 
the  crowd  and  saw  unbelief.  Many  were  laughing. 

325 


A  DAUGHTER   OF  THE   SNOWS 

"Why  did  you  not  tell  this  story  at  first?"  Bill 
Brown  demanded. 

"Because  ....  because  .  .  .  ." 

"Well?" 

"  Because  I  might  have  helped." 

There  was  more  laughter  at  this,  and  Bill  Brown 
turned  away  from  him.  "  Gentlemen,  you  have  heard 
this  pipe  dream.  It  is  a  wilder  fairy  story  than  his 
first.  At  the  beginning  of  the  trial  we  promised  to 
show  that  the  truth  was  not  in  him.  That  we  suc 
ceeded,  your  verdict  is  ample  testimony.  But  that  he 
should  likewise  succeed,  and  more  brilliantly,  we  did 
not  expect.  That  he  has,  you  cannot  doubt.  What  do 
you  think  of  him  ?  Lie  upon  lie  he  has  given  us ;  he 
has  been  proven  a  chronic  liar ;  are  you  to  believe  this 
last  and  fearfully  impossible  lie?  Gentlemen,  I  can 
only  ask  that  you  reaffirm  your  judgment.  And  to 
those  who  may  doubt  his  mendacity, — surely  there  are 
but  few, — let  me  state,  that  if  his  story  is  true;  if  he 
broke  salt  with  this  man,  John  Borg,  and  lay  in  his 
blankets  while  murder  was  done;  if  he  did  hear,  un 
moved,  the  voice  of  the  man  calling  to  him  for  help ; 
if  he  did  lie  there  and  watch  that  carnival  of  butchery 
without  his  manhood  prompting  him, — let  me  state, 
gentlemen,  I  say,  let  me  state  that  he  is  none  the  less 
deserveful  of  hanging.  We  cannot  make  a  mistake. 
What  shall  it  be?" 

"  Death !"  "  String  him  up !"  "  Stretch  'm !"  were 
the  cries. 

But  the  crowd  suddenly  turned  its  attention  to  the 
river,  and  even  Blackey  refrained  from  his  official  task. 
!A  large  raft,  worked  by  a  sweep  at  either  end,  was 
slipping  past  the  tail  of  Split-up  Island,  close  to  the 

326 


A   DAUGHTER   OF  THE   SNOWS 

shore.  When  it  was  at  their  feet,  its  nose  was  slewed 
into  the  bank,  and  while  its  free  end  swung  into  the 
stream  to  make  the  consequent  circle,  a  snubbing-rope 
was  flung  ashore  and  several  turns  taken  about  the 
tree  under  which  St.  Vincent  stood.  A  cargo  of 
moose-meat,  red  and  raw,  cut  into  quarters,  peeped 
from  beneath  a  cool  covering  of  spruce  boughs.  And 
because  of  this,  the  two  men  on  the  raft  looked  up  to 
those  on  the  bank  with  pride  in  their  eyes. 

"  Tryin'  to  make  Dawson  with  it,"  one  of  them 
explained,  "  and  the  sun's  all-fired  hot." 

"  Nope,"  said  his  comrade,  in  reply  to  a  query, 
"  don't  care  to  stop  and  trade.  It's  worth  a  dollar  and 
a  half  a  pound  down  below,  and  we're  hustlin'  to  get 
there.  But  we've  got  some  pieces  of  a  man  we  want' 
to  leave  with  you."  He  turned  and  pointed  to  a  loose 
heap  of  blankets  which  slightly  disclosed  the  form  of 
a  man  beneath.  "  We  gathered  him  in  this  mornin', 
'bout  thirty  mile  up  the  Stewart,  I  should  judge." 

"  Stands  in  need  of  doctorin',"  the  other  man  spoke 
up,  "  and  the  meat's  spoilin',  and  we  ain't  got  time  for 
nothin'."  "  Beggar  don't  have  anythin'  to  say.  Don't 
savve  the  burro."  "  Looks  as  he  might  have  been 
mixin'  things  with  a  grizzly  or  somethin', — all  battered 
and  gouged.  Injured  internally,  from  the  looks  of  it. 
Where'll  you  have  him?" 

Frona,  standing  by  St.  Vincent,  saw  the  injured 
man  borne  over  the  crest  of  the  bank  and  through  the 
crowd.  A  bronzed  hand  drooped  down  and  a  bronzed 
face  showed  from  out  the  blankets.  The  bearers 
halted  near  them  while  a  decision  could  be  reached 
as  to  where  he  should  be  carried.  Frona  felt  a  sudden 
fierce  grip  on  her  arm. 

327 


A   DAUGHTER   OF  THE   SNOWS 

"  Look !  look !"  St.  Vincent  was  leaning  forward 
and  pointing  wildly  at  the  injured  man.  "  Look*! 
That  scar  r 

The  Indian  opened  his  eyes  and  a  grin  of  recogni 
tion  distorted  his  face. 

"  It  is  he !  It  is  he  1"  St.  Vincent,  trembling  with 
eagerness,  turned  upon  the  crowd.  "  I  call  you  all 
to  witness!  That  is  the  man  who  killed  John 
Borg!" 

No  laughter  greeted  this,  for  there  was  a  terrible 
earnestness  in  his  manner.  Bill  Brown  and  the  chair 
man  tried  to  make  the  Indian  talk,  but  could  not. 
A  miner  from  British  Columbia  was  pressed  into  ser 
vice,  but  his  Chinook  made  no  impression.  Then  La 
Flitche  was  called.  The  handsome  breed  bent  over 
the  man  and  talked  in  gutturals  which  only  his 
mother's  heredity  made  possible.  It  sounded  all  one, 
yet  it  was  apparent  that  he  was  trying  many  tongues. 
But  no  response  did  he  draw,  and  he  paused  disheart 
ened.  As  though  with  sudden  recollection,  he  made 
another  attempt.  At  once  a  gleam  of  intelligence  shot 
across  the  Indian's  face,  and  his  larynx  vibrated  to 
similar  sounds. 

"It  is  the  Stick  talk  of  the  Upper  White,"  La 
Flitche  stopped  long  enough  to  explain. 

Then,  with  knit  brows  and  stumbling  moments  when 
he  sought  dim-remembered  words,  he  plied  the  man 
with  questions.  To  the  rest  it  was  like  a  pantomime, 
— the  meaningless  grunts  and  waving  arms  and  facial 
expressions  of  puzzlement,  surprise,  and  understand 
ing.  At  times  a  passion  wrote  itself  on  the  face  of  the 
Indian,  and  a  sympathy  on  the  face  of  La  Flitche. 
Again,  by  look^and  gesture,  St.  Vincent  was  referred 

328 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

to,  and  once  a  sober,  mirthless  laugh  shaped  the 
mouths  of  them. 

"So?  It  is  good,"  La  Flitche  said,  when  the  In 
dian's  head  dropped  back.  "  This  man  make  true  talk. 
He  come  from  White  River,  way  up.  He  cannot  un 
derstand.  He  surprised  very  much,  so  many  white 
men.  He  never  think  so  many  white  men  in  the  world. 
He  die  soon.  His  name  Gow. 

"  Long  time  ago,  three  year,  this  man  John  Borg 
go  to  this  man  Gow's  country.  He  hunt,  he  bring 
plenty  meat  to  the  camp,  wherefore  White  River 
Sticks  like  him.  Gow  have  one  squaw,  Pisk-ku. 
Bime-by  John  Borg  make  preparation  to  go  'way.  He 
go  to  Gow,  and  he  say,  '  Give  me  your  squaw.  We 
trade.  For  her  I  give  you  many  things/  But  Gow 
say  no.  Pisk-ku  good  squaw.  No  woman  sew  moc 
casin  like  she.  She  tan  moose-skin  the  best,  and  make 
the  softest  leather.  He  like  Pisk-ku.  Then  John  Borg 
say  he  don't  care ;  he  want  Pisk-ku.  Then  they  have 
a  skookum  big  fight,  and  Pisk-ku  go  'way  with  John 
Borg.  She  no  want  to  go  'way,  but  she  go  anyway. 
Borg  call  her  '  Bella,'  and  give  her  plenty  good  things, 
but  she  like  Gow  all  the  time."  La  Flitche  pointed  to 
the  scar  which  ran  down  the  forehead  and  past  the 
eye  of  the  Indian.  "  John  Borg  he  do  that. 

"  Long  time  Gow  pretty  near  die.  Then  he  get  well, 
but  his  head  sick.  He  don't  know  nobody.  Don't 
know  his  father,  his  mother,  or  anything.  Just  like  a 
little  baby,  just  like  that.  Then  one  day,  quick,  click ! 
something  snap,  and  his  head  get  well  all  at  once.  He 
know  his  father  and  mother,  he  remember  Pisk-ku, 
he  remember  everything.  His  father  say  John  Borg 
go  down  river.  Then  Gow  go  down  river.  Spring- 

320 


A   DAUGHTER   OF   THE   SNOWS 

time,  ice  very  bad.  He  very  much  afraid,  so  many 
white  men,  and  when  he  come  to  this  place  he  travel 
by  night.  Nobody  see  him  'tall,  but  he  see  everybody. 
He  like  a  cat,  see  in  the  dark.  Somehow,  he  come 
straight  to  John  Borg's  cabin.  He  do  not  know  how 
this  was,  except  that  the  work  he  had  to  do  was  good 
work." 

St.  Vincent  pressed  Frona's  hand,  but  she  shook  her 
fingers  clear  and  withdrew  a  step. 

"He  see  Pisk-ku  feed  the  dogs,  and  he  have  talk 
with  her.  That  night  he  come  and  she  open  the  door. 
Then  you  know  that  which  was  done.  St.  Vincent  do 
nothing.  Borg  kill  Bella.  Gow  kill  Borg.  Borg  kill 
Grow,  for  Gow  die  pretty  quick.  Borg  have  strong 
arm.  Gow  sick  inside,  all  smashed  up.  Gow  no  care; 
Pisk-ku  dead. 

"  After  that  he  go  'cross  ice  to  the  land.  I  tell  him 
all  you  people  say  it  cannot  be ;  no  man  can  cross  the 
ice  at  that  time.  He  laugh,  and  say  that  it  is,  and 
what  is,  must  be.  Anyway,  he  have  very  hard  time, 
but  he  get  'cross  all  right.  He  very  sick  inside. 
Bime-by  he  cannot  walk;  he  crawl.  Long  time  he 
come  to  Stewart  River.  Can  go  no  more,  so  he  lay 
down  to  die.  Two  white  men  find  him  and  bring  him 
to  this  place.  He  don't  care.  He  die  anyway." 

La  Flitche  finished  abruptly,  but  nobody  spoke. 
Then  he  added,  "  I  think  Gow  damn  good  man." 

Frona  came  up  to  Jacob  Welse.  "  Take  me  away, 
father,"  she  said.  "  I  am  so  tired," 


330 


CHAPTER  XXX 


NEXT  morning,  Jacob  Welse,  for  all  of  the  Com 
pany  and  his  millions  in  mines,  chopped  up  the  day's 
supply  of  firewood,  lighted  a  cigar,  and  went  down  the 
island  in  search  of  Baron  Courbertin.  Frona  finished 
the  breakfast  dishes,  hung  out  the  robes  to  air,  and 
fed  the  dogs.  Then  she  took  a  worn  Wordsworth 
from  her  clothes-bag,  and,  out  by  the  bank,  settled  her 
self  comfortably  in  a  seat  formed  by  two  uprooted 
pines.  But  she  did  no  more  than  open  the  book;  for 
her  eyes  strayed  out  and  over  the  Yukon  to  the  eddy 
below  the  bluffs,  and  the  bend  above,  and  the  tail  of 
the  spit  which  lay  in  the  midst  of  the  river.  The 
rescue  and  the  race  were  still  fresh  with  her,  though 
there  were  strange  lapses,  here  and  there,  of  which  she 
remembered  little.  The  struggle  by  the  fissure  was 
immeasurable;  she  knew  not  how  long  it  lasted;  and 
the  race  down  Split-up  to  Roubeau  Island  was  a  thing 
of  which  her  reason  convinced  her,  but  of  which  she 
recollected  nothing. 

The  whim  seized  her,  and  she  followed  Corliss 
through  the  three  days'  events,  but  she  tacitly  avoided 
the  figure  of  another  man  whom  she  would  not  name. 
Something  terrible  was  connected  therewith,  she  knew, 
which  must  be  faced  sooner  or  later;  but  she  pre 
ferred  to  put  that  moment  away  from  her.  She  was 
stiff  and  sore  of  mind  as  well  as  of  body,  and  will  and 

33i 


A  DAUGHTER   OF  THE  SNOWS 

action  were  for  the  time  being  distasteful.  It  was 
more  pieasant,  even,  to  dwell  on  Tommy,  on  Tommy 
of  the  bitter  tongue  and  craven  heart ;  and  she  made 
a  note  that  the  wife  and  children  in  Toronto  should 
not  be  forgotten  when  the  Northland  paid  its  dividends 
to  the  Welse. 

The  crackle  of  a  foot  on  a  dead  willow-twig  roused 
her,  and  her  eyes  met  St.  Vincent's. 

"  You  have  not  congratulated  me  upon  my  escape," 
he  began,  breezily.  "  But  you  must  have  been  dead- 
tired  last  night.  I  know  I  was.  And  you  had  that 
hard  pull  on  the  river  besides." 

He  watched  her  furtively,  trying  to  catch  some  cue 
as  to  her  attitude  and  mood. 

"  You  re  a  heroine,  that's  what  you  are,  Frona,"  he 
began  again,  with  exuberance.  "And  not  only  did 
you  save  the  mail-man,  but  by  the  delay  you  wrought 
in  the  trial  you  saved  me.  If  one  more  witness  had 
gone  .on  the  stand  that  first  day,  I  should  have  been 
duly  hanged  before  Gow  put  in  an  appearance.  Fine 
chap,  Gow.  Too  bad  he's  going  to  die." 

"I  am  glad  that  I  could  be  of  help,"  she  replied, 
wondering  the  while  what  she  could  say. 

"  And  of  course  I  am  to  be  congratulated " 

"Your  trial  is  hardly  a  thing  for  congratulation," 
she  spoke  up  quickly,  looking  him  straight  in  the  eyes 
for  the  moment.  "  I  am  glad  that  it  came  out  as  it  did, 
but  surely  you  cannot  expect  me  to  congratulate  you." 

"  O-o-o,"  with  long-drawn  inflection.  "  So  that's 
where  it  pinches."  He  smiled  good-humoredly,  and 
moved  as  though  to  sit  down,  but  she  made  no  room 
for  him,  and  he  remained  standing.  "  I  can  certainly 

explain.    If  there  have  been  women " 

332 


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